


blink back (to let me know)

by meredithsays



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Asexuality, High School AU, M/M, Multi, Sastiel - Freeform, ace!cas, ace!sam, aro!Ruby, trans!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-16 21:58:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 58,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1363228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meredithsays/pseuds/meredithsays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's got it bad for his best friend, Castiel. Too bad Cas is head over heels for his older brother. Through deception, misunderstandings, and suspension of disbelief, Sam finds himself at the center of an elaborate ruse to try to win Cas' heart before he gives up on the Winchesters entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. when the world gets too heavy

Sam folded the edges of his sandwich wrapper into a neat square. He wondered if he could make it into the trash can from across the cafeteria, but before he could aim someone gently tugged at his sleeve from behind.  Sam turned around sharply and blew the bangs out of his eyes. Cas looked at him insistently, tilting his head in silent question.

With a sigh, Sam shook his head and moved his backpack off the bench so his friend could sit down. “No, I didn’t ask him.” Cas’ brows knitted together and he opened his mouth to argue before Sam cut him off. “It’s weird, man! That’s just not how we do stuff in our family.”

Cas thumped into the seat, his long legs stretching over the beige plastic. He folded his hands together and tucked them into the pocket on his hoodie. He kept his back taut and shrugged minutely, staring across the room. “Fine.” Sam followed his gaze and let his head roll backwards when he realized what Cas was looking at. He probably should have expected it.

“Does it really matter whether or not they’re dating?” Sam huffed.

As if on cue, Dean’s entire table burst into laughter. Ash spewed chocolate milk from his nose, causing an even bigger commotion. Charlie handed him a napkin and clapped Dean on the back, but Dean barely turned his head to acknowledge her. He ran a hand through his short spiked hair and rested his arm on Benny’s shoulder. Benny ducked his face down for a moment and gave Dean a small smile before shrugging him off. Far from being disappointed, Dean’s face lit up. He leaned backwards in his chair and almost fell.

The laughter from the table started back up and Cas turned to Sam pointedly. “He is hanging on Benny’s arm and smiling more than usual. He didn’t look at anyone else when he made that joke, and he somehow managed to get the quarterback to eat lunch with a group of kids who would rather build tiny robots than play football.” He paused after each sentence like they were items on Dean’s to-do list. Sam winced at the thought. Dean probably _did_ have a checklist for that sort of thing.

“Okay, fine. Maybe he’s got a thing for Benny. But that -” He looked away. “It doesn’t mean you don’t have a chance.”

Cas nodded, a little smile on his lips. “Yes, I suppose. Thank you, Sam.” He moved his hand above Sam’s shoulder and gently patted him before freezing. “I forgot that we were going to work on Latin together. Do we still have enough time?” The bell rang out, loud and metallic. The cafeteria was suddenly hectic, chairs scraping against tile and students pushing to get to class.

There was a heavy pause as Cas looked toward the other table again. Benny had his arm around Dean’s shoulder and they leaned toward one another as they left. Their chests shook from laughter. Sam frowned as he stood up, hand hovering near his friend’s arm. Castiel’s face was carefully devoid of emotion, watching the two seniors as if he were merely watching them because they happened to be in his field of vision.

“Look, do you want to come over tonight to work on it? Dean’ll be home, so.”

“Sam.” Cas threw his shoulders back and raised his eyebrows. “It’s insulting that you assume I am more likely to enjoy spending time at your home if your brother is there. You are my best friend.” He extended his hand to help Sam out of the bench. As Sam grasped it, he had to tamp down the bright flush in his chest. It disappeared as Cas continued, “Besides, your brother is reckless, constantly getting himself into trouble, and overtly sexual.”

Sam swung his backpack over his left shoulder and offered Cas a lopsided smile. “Well, yeah. Aren’t you into that kind of thing?”

The ghost of a smile played across Cas’ lips. “Isn’t everyone?”

Something acidic clenched in Sam’s chest. He laughed. “Yeah, I guess.” He looked down at his neatly tied shoelaces and didn’t say anything else. If he took the long way to Geometry so that he could walk Cas to Calculus, it was only an accident.

The teacher droned in the background of Sam’s mind about angles. He watched her fit triangles together like puzzle pieces. They always added up exactly the same. It was neat. It was tidy. It was easy. He found himself halfway down the page in his notebook. Spirals and doodles filled up the lined paper except for a blank space in the middle. Sam let his chin drop onto his hands and let his mind wander. If he’d been younger or more optimistic, maybe he would have drawn two boys in hoodies holding hands. His pencil hovered above the blank space, recalling the curves and angles of Cas’ face – the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, quiet and bright like dawn. Cas’ legs, taut and lean after a recent growth spurt – his hands, his rich cornflower eyes, his chapped lips - Sam violently ripped out the page and folded it in half, rolling his eyes at himself. Maybe he ought to just write Castiel’s name a million times with a little heart over the ‘i’. Pathetic. It was pointless. When class was over, he threw it into the wastebasket by the door.

 

*

 

Three textbooks spread out on the kitchen table could be an intimidating sight, but Sam seemed comfortable there. He propped up his head with one hand and turned the page with the other. The posterboard behind the books had been almost covered in Sam’s scrawl, Latin fitting into little boxes he’d outlined with a ruler. After every fifth conjugated sentence, he looked up at the door. Cas was late. Normally it would have been fine, but Cas was never late. And on the rare occasions something had delayed him, he sent at least one explanatory text. Sam sighed and then whipped around as Dean banged on a pot in the kitchen to get his attention.

“Dude, why do you keep looking at the door like there’s a candygram coming?” Dean continued washing the copper pot, but not before noticing the pink tint creeping up Sam’s neck. He raised his eyebrows and slowly began to grin. “Or is our visitor a different kind of delicious?” Sam threw a pen at him and he dodged with well-practiced reflexes.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Shut up, Dean. It’s not like that, we’re just friends.” Sam glared at his brother before pointedly returning to the Latin.

Dean set the pot back into the sink with a dull clink. He flipped the checkered dishtowel over his shoulder and swung into the seat next to Sam. “I dunno, you can get pretty naughty with ‘just friends’,” Dean wiggled his eyebrows, but slouched into his seat as Sam ignored him.

There was a squeak as the screen door outside opened. Both boys sat up straight. Sam untangled his feet from the legs of the chair and stood up. Dean stayed at the table, a mischievous glint in his eye. Before Sam had opened the door, there was an aborted knock and then it swung open from the outside. Cas stood in the doorway. Sam opened his mouth in confusion and Dean pursed his lips in appreciation.

Instead of the maroon hoodie or faded trench coat that Cas had found at Goodwill, he leaned against the frame in a baggy Led Zeppelin tee and ripped jeans. He nodded nonchalantly at Sam and stepped inside.

“Hey, Sam,” Cas smiled from one side of his mouth and threw his backpack onto the couch. “Dean.”

Sam gaped at him for a moment before Dean cleared his throat and nodded in response. Sam shook his head. “Hey, Cas. Uh - Since when do you like Led Zeppelin?”

Cas shot him a dangerous look. “Since always. Led Zeppelin is a cool band.”

Dean laughed and shook his head. There was a sizzling sound in the kitchen, and the scratched table creaked as he pushed against it to get up. “Yeah, they are. I didn’t know you liked them, Cas!”

The sudden glow on Cas’ face was unmistakable, but Dean had already turned around. Sam looked away as his brother continued.  “I’d actually love to chat about them, but I gotta get the hot dogs out of the water.” He stopped halfway into the kitchen and looked over his shoulder at Sam. “Does your friend want food?”

Before Sam could answer, Cas said, “Hell, yes.” The words sounded stilted coming out of his mouth.

Dean grinned. “Hear that, Sam? Looks like he actually knows what good food is, too. I respect that in a man.” He gave Castiel a mock salute and disappeared into the kitchen shortly, handing them two hot dogs on blue plastic plates. “You really ought to bring this kid around more often. I think he’s probably good for you.” He winked and Sam rolled his eyes before grabbing his plate and motioning Cas towards his bedroom.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do in there!” As the two dragged their books down the hallway, Dean shrugged. “Just know Bobby’s coming home in an hour. So shut the door if there’s any funny business.”

The door to Sam’s room slammed shut and Dean smirked to himself, turning on the TV and starting on his dinner.

 

*

 

Cas set his bag on Sam’s plaid bedspread and sat down, pulling out his textbook. “Alright, I’m thinking that for the project we ought to start by – ”

“What the hell was all that?” At Cas’ frantic gestures, Sam made a face and put a finger to his lips.

With a scowl, Cas readjusted the frayed knee of his jeans. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.” He raised his eyebrows in some sort of denial, half-shrugging as he picked at the denim.

Sam pushed the bag out of the way and sat down next to him. The springs creaked under their combined weight. “Really? Zeppelin? ‘Hell, yes’?” When Cas didn’t say anything, Sam pointed to the forgotten hot dog on the end table. “And you hate hot dogs!”

“Well they’re a horrific assortment of byproducts,” Cas blurted. He sighed, lacing his fingers together. “I just. I’ve been over here four times, and Dean has never paid any attention to me. I’m frankly surprised he remembered my name. And he said he’d love to chat with me!” He propped his head up on his fist, eyes crinkling. It was like Bambi in the springtime, all flowers and lovey-dovey sighs.

It made Sam feel sick. “So, this really was about Dean, then.” He tried not to say his brother’s name like it was venomous, but he didn’t know how well he pulled it off. Thankfully, Castiel was otherwise occupied. His glassy expression belied the thoughts he was having, which threatened to make Sam actually vomit. “Where did you even get that shirt?”

Cas shook himself out of the reverie. “Uh, it’s Gabriel’s.”

“It looks ridiculous on you.” Sam reached out and gathered up a handful of fabric to prove his point. He was struck by how warm it was. And the sliver of stomach he had inadvertently exposed. He let go immediately.

A short puff of air accompanied Cas’ pursed lips as he straightened out the shirt, pulling on the wrinkles Sam had made. “Yes, well, it worked. Honestly I’m a little disappointed neither of you blatantly disbelieved me- I looked up their top songs and the albums they were on.”

Sam rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Cas, look. I get that you like him or whatever, I really do. But you can’t just change everything about yourself to try and be in a relationship, even if you’re head over heels for the person. Cause once you’ve tricked them into thinking you’re something you’re not, you can’t even enjoy yourself because you’re putting on a show – and they’ll eventually find out. It’s just not a good idea. Trust me.”

He looked at Cas in earnest, hoping his little speech would break through Cas’ ridiculous scheme. His friend squinted. “Is that what happened with Ruby?”

The room became uncomfortably silent. Sam cleared his throat. “Fine, do what you want. Let’s finish this crap.” They rearranged themselves so that they could see all the books at once. Cas produced a set of felt tipped markers and began to outline the words on the poster. Neither said much of anything else. The hot dogs got cold.

There was a slam at the front door, and Cas started. When he noticed Sam was unfazed, he settled back against the headboard and asked, “Do you think Dean left to go somewhere?”

Sam’s jaw jutted to the side before he carefully turned the page in his book. “No. Bobby’s probably home from the garage.” Cas slowly nodded in understanding.

“Has it been working, for you?” Sam looked up at his voice, brow furrowed. Cas amended it, soft eyes in spite of the question. “Living with Bobby, after your father died.”

From anyone else, it could have been offensive. But it was obvious Cas was genuinely interested in the answer. Maybe he was even concerned. Sam shrugged. “To tell you the truth, it hasn’t been that different from when Dad was alive. It’s not like he was ever here anyway.” Cas inclined his head and didn’t say anything. There was a special kind of understanding between kids with deadbeat dads. He knew what Sam meant.

The project was finished without fanfare. Cas stood up and rubbed the green ink on his fingers with a frown. “I probably should get going,” he motioned at the door. Sam nodded, standing up to walk him out.

Cas gave him a little wave as he left. From the couch, Dean called out, “ _Vale_ , Cas! Come again soon!” Sam rolled his eyes as Cas blushed, waved again, and headed to his car.

Dean craned behind him to look at Sam with a grin. “Your boyfriend’s kinda cute. Weird, but cute.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Sam crossed his arms petulantly. “And knowing one word in Latin isn’t impressive.”

“But he is cute.” Dean flopped back onto the couch and let his arm drag on the floor. “If you’re not gonna wine him and dine him, maybe I will.”

Sam dropped his arms in horror, composing himself and walking over to the sofa. He pushed Dean’s legs out of the way and sat next to him. “What? No.”

“So you do like him!” Dean perked out of his slouch and pointed at Sam, who scoffed as if it was the most ridiculous thing Dean had ever pulled out of his ass.

“No, I just thought you and Benny were, like, a thing?” If Sam had been a little more superstitious, he would have crossed his fingers. Instead he just sent a silent prayer to whatever angel might be listening and invested in him actually having a shot at a relationship for once.

Dean didn’t seem thrown by the question, but threw himself back onto the cushions and closed his eyes. “It’s complicated.”

Sam seized the opportunity. “Complicated how?”

His brother cracked open an eyelid to squint. “Why do you care?”

“I just wanna make sure my brother’s happy, can you blame me?” Sam teased and ducked the pillow that Dean swung at his head. “Rude.”

“Yeah, well.” Dean looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “He definitely likes me, but he doesn’t want to be in a relationship because his girlfriend moved away and it was heartbreaking or whatever.” He shifted on the worn green upholstery and propped himself up on his elbow. “It’s okay, though. I get it. I’d rather he tell me that and still hang out with me than use me as a rebound, I mean.”

Sam thought about it for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I see what you mean.”

They sat in silence for a minute before Dean nudged Sam’s thigh with his foot. “Well, I dished like this is a sleepover, your turn. Tell me about your raging boner for the dweeb in the Zeppelin shirt.”

“I don’t have a _boner_ for him,” Sam bristled indignantly. “And he doesn’t even like Led Zeppelin.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You like a music poser? Weak, Sammy, even for you. And Zeppelin?” He shook his head. “That seems a little sacrilegious to me.”

“It’s not his shirt, he was wearing it to im-” Sam cut off his sentence abruptly and closed his eyes, sighing inwardly. Yeah, Dean wasn’t gonna let that go.

“He was wearing it to what?” Dean sat up and swung his long legs over the back of the couch, gesturing for Sam to follow him. The two teens walked to the kitchen and Sam leaned against the counter as Dean started unloading the dishwasher.

Sam sighed again, reaching down to help sort silverware. “To impress you, Dean.”

Without blinking, Dean shrugged and shot his brother a grin. “I mean, can you blame him?” He grabbed the dishtowel by the sink to wipe out the still-wet glasses. “I’m pretty hot shit.”

“Yeah.” Sam set the knives in the drawer with a little more force than necessary. It was so stupid. Of course Cas liked Dean. He _was_ pretty hot shit, which was teeth-grindingly painful to admit, even internally.

The quiet clinking of metal only lasted for seconds before Dean nudged Sam’s arm with his elbow. “C’mon, Sammy it was just a – ”

“Don’t call me Sammy.”

“ — joke. I’m teasing.” He scraped a piece of rice off a fork with his thumbnail and tossed it in the drawer. “You want a foolproof way to get him interested?”

Sam narrowed his eyes, wary. “Yeah…”

“Well, then you gotta make him jealous.” Dean slotted the silverware tray back into the dishwasher and pulled out the bottom rack. “Get close to someone that’s close to him. You gotta make him notice what a great kid you are, and no better way to do that than to get in good with someone he spends a lot of time around. Doesn’t he have a sister?”

Sam shrugged, leaning away from the dishwasher. “Yeah, I think two. Anna and … I think Hester? She’s older though. Why?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Christ, Sam, it’s like you’re twelve.” He made a circle with his left hand and stuck his right index finger inside of it, wiggling his eyebrows.

“It’s like _I’m_ twelve?” Sam threw a plastic cup at his brother, who caught it with a smirk. “That’s horrible, Dean. Not only would it be horrible to another person, it’s horrible advice! How the hell would that make Cas notice me – apart from marking me as undateable because I got with his sister?”

His brother shrugged. “I mean, he’d know you were a red-blooded male with a penchant for the Shurleys.”

Sam rubbed at his temples and let loose a ragged sigh of despair. “You’re so disgusting.”

“You love me.” Dean laughed as Sam made a face and yanked another plate out of the dishwasher, pretending to be intent on drying it out before setting it gently in the cupboard. They finished the chore in mostly companionable silence, but as Sam turned to leave, Dean put his slightly shriveled hand on Sam’s shoulder, pressing wet indents into the cotton.

“Sam. I really am just teasing you, but,” He rolled his eyes like it was embarrassing to say out loud. “You’re a good kid. Don’t get all caught up in games and shit – if he doesn’t like you for you, he ain’t worth it anyway.”

Sam put a hand on his heart, dropping his jaw in mock astonishment. “What’s this? Dean Winchester, acting like the best friend in a chick flick?”

“Shut up. Now go away before I change my mind and tell that kid you read the Wikipedia article of the day for fun.”

Sam smiled, teeth showing at one corner of his mouth. “Actually, that’d probably be a turn-on.”

“You have literally the worst taste in dudes.” Dean shook his head sadly. “Where did I go wrong?” He threw his hands in the air, at a loss.

“Night, Dean.”

“G’night, bitch.”

“Jerk.”


	2. put it on my back

Waiting for Dean was always boring, but Sam didn’t have a car and therefore had no choice. He smoothed his biology notes out on the table, setting the cardboard cup on top of his book. He bent over and dug through his backpack to search for a pencil. Cas was supposed to meet him here to wait while Dean watched Benny at football practice. Sam rolled his eyes just thinking about it. Benny was nice enough, but it irked Sam to no end that when Sam played soccer, sports were dumb, but Benny playing _football_ was the coolest thing on the planet to Dean. He was head over heels and kept trying to deny it, both to Sam and to himself.

Sam chuckled to himself. Actually, that sounded kind of familiar. Maybe it was a Winchester thing.

He grabbed a stubby yellow pencil, a pen, and a highlighter and set himself upright to see that Castiel was sitting across from him. Sam jerked, startled enough to drop the pencil into his coffee.

“Hello.”

 _“Hello?”_   Sam clutched at his chest in exaggerated shock.

“That is still the term?” Cas raised one eyebrow sarcastically before dropping his head onto his arms with an elongated sigh.

Sam reached into his lukewarm drink and scrunched up his nose as he extracted the dripping pencil and set it on top of his finished geometry homework, watching the ink bleed as it got wet. “Shut up. Maybe next time announce yourself before you give me a freaking heart attack, huh? Where were you, anyway?”

Whatever Cas said was muffled by his sleeves as he kept his forehead pressed to the table. He lifted his head for a second like he was going to repeat it, but just dropped his head again with a hollow thunk and a dramatic sigh. Sam looked up at the ceiling and prayed to anybody listening that this wasn’t about Dean.

“I was watching the football team practice.”

If Sam had still been holding the pencil he might have jammed it into his eye. “Do you mean you were watching Dean?”

Cas blushed and shook his head, obviously avoiding eye contact. “What? No. Absolutely not.”

It was almost funny. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“I just,” Cas sat up straight, smoothing out his coat. “I just like him a lot. I need to figure out how to get him to notice me – although it’s probably pointless, since he’s dating Benny.” He propped his chin up on his hand and stared forlornly into the parking lot.

The buzzing of the coffee shop seemed to drop away as Sam watched Castiel, with his too-big coat and his bright blue eyes. He wanted to reach out and pull Cas’ hand away from his face and cover it in his own, chapped palms on scraped knuckles. Shaking his head, he chastised himself. Cas didn’t like him like that. He just wanted to make him feel better, so he at least might stop sighing so frequently.

“They’re not dating.”

Cas whirled back around to Sam, brow furrowed. “What?”

Sam looked down at his book and highlighted the definition of mitosis. “I talked to Dean last night. They’re not dating, because Benny got dumped or something and Dean doesn’t wanna be a rebound.” It was technically true, but Cas’ smile made him regret saying it.

His whole face lit up and he settled into his chair, positively glowing. Sam bit his lip. He wasn’t trying to mislead Cas. It just kind of kept happening.

“Sam. This means time is of the essence.” Cas leaned forward, his features intense. “How do I get him to notice me? How do I make him pay attention?”

Sam threw his hands in the air. “Jesus, Cas, how would I know?”

Cas tapped the table with his finger, lost in thought and mumbling to himself, “Well I could … maybe … what would Dean do?”

A little bitter, Sam replied without thinking, “Dean’d tell you to date someone close to him.” He finished by muttering, “and probably ruin their life, to boot.”

The tapping stopped and Sam looked up to see that Cas was paying attention now. “What did you say?”

“Nothing! Er, I don’t know,” Sam tripped over his words, cursing himself. Dean’s closest friends were Charlie and Benny, and Charlie was definitely off the table, but Benny might actually fall for Cas’ soft laugh and his dark hair and his frankly fantastic grilling – and Cas would honestly probably really like Benny, too. Sam’s head reeled with the worst-case scenario he’d concocted. He wasn’t going to end up with Cas either way, but if he’d accidentally ruined Dean’s relationship with Benny – Sam had to hope that Cas hadn’t heard enough to put two and two together. The dawning look of realization Cas was giving him said otherwise.

“Date someone close to him? Sam, you’re a genius.”

Sam swallowed thickly. Dean was going to kill him. Either that or he’d laugh for five seconds and then kill him. Either way looked violent. “No, that’s not what I – ”

“Hey, Sammy.” Dean grabbed the cup off the table and sniffed it before taking a cautious drink. He gagged and set it back down on the table, glancing over to see if Benny laughed. The quarterback snorted and shook his head at Sam with the kind of camaraderie that only comes from being friends with the same dork.

Cas put his hand on Sam’s arm, smiling sweetly up at the other pair. “Hello, Benny.” As an afterthought he nodded to Sam’s brother. “Dean.” Sam stared down at Cas’ hand, unsure of the proper response. He began to slide his arm away, but Cas tightened his grip.

Dean raised an eyebrow and looked at Sam, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Castiel, how you doing?”

“Great. Fantastic, actually.” He smiled brightly and patted Sam’s wrist. “Just sitting here with Sam, your brother. We’ve gotten very close recently.”

Benny chuckled and pushed at Dean’s shoulder. “Yeah, these Winchesters are really somethin’, huh.” Dean swatted his hand away and made a face, which Benny returned immediately.

Cas looked from one to the other as they giggled to themselves and loudly commented, “Yes, they really are,” He waited for Dean to tear his eyes away from Benny before continuing. “Also, very cute.” He winked at Sam and Dean let out a surprised bark of laughter.

Everything was suddenly moving very quickly. Sam kicked Cas under the table, shaking his head imperceptibly. What the hell was he doing? This isn’t what Sam had meant at all. It wouldn’t get Cas any closer to Dean than telling him that he was taking two languages for fun would. Which is to say, it wouldn’t get him very close at all.

“Damn, Sam,” Dean grinned slyly at his brother, “Are you two dating already?”

Cas’ plastic smile faltered for a second in a flash of confusion. “Already?”

“Yes!” Sam blurted out, placing his hand over Cas’ firmly. “Yes, yes we are dating, together. Yes. Very much so.” He stared at Dean, willing him not to say anything else.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Good. That’s uh, that’s great then?” He nodded at Sam, a question for later hanging in the air.

Benny shifted his backpack higher onto his shoulder and smiled at the underclassmen. “Well, look at you two. Cause for celebration, I’d say – Dean, whaddaya say about them coming to dinner with us tomorrow?”

It was like that had been Cas’ plan the entire time. He sprang out of his chair, scooping up his bag and beaming. “Oh, wow, thank you Benny. I think we would enjoy that. Right, Sam?” Sam gaped, managing to smile out of one side of his mouth and nod a little. “Great. Then it’s settled. I have to leave; can you text me the address of the restaurant, Dean?”

Dean blinked. “I mean, yeah, but I don’t have your number.”

“No, you don’t,” Cas agreed. He looked around him for a second and ripped a sheet off Sam’s notebook, scribbling on it with the pencil stub and handing it to Dean. “But now you do.” He stood there for a moment, then walked around to Sam’s other side and bent over next to his face.

“Call me tonight, okay?” He took aim and very deliberately pressed his lips into Sam’s cheek. Sam flushed bright red and turned his face away as Cas straightened up. He waved at the three and disappeared out the front door with the sound of bells in his wake.

Sam still had his hand pressed to his cheek where Cas had kissed it when Benny laughed a little awkwardly. “Well, he’s uh, he’s a funny fella, ain’t he? Sweet, though.”

“Sweet enough that you gotta invite him to Johnny’s for pizza?” Dean gave him a pointed look but waved off what started sounding like an apology. “Nah, it’s fine. He’s a good kid.”

Benny wiped imaginary sweat from his brow. “Whew! I was so worried I’d accidentally offended ya. Good to know he’s not in yer bad books, chief.”

Dean looked out the window to see Cas patiently waiting at the crosswalk. “Yeah, not yet at least.” He turned towards his brother and pushed at his shoulder before stooping over to pick up his bag. “Although I’ll rip out his lungs if he hurts lil Sammy here.”

Sam didn’t even bother correcting him. He was too busy staring at Cas’ back across the street and wondering what just happened.

“Ah, young love.” Benny chuckled before pulling his keys out of his pocket. “I gotta head out too. Thanks for stayin’ for practice – it was nice, seein’ you there in the stands rootin’ for me.”

“For you?” Dean dismissed him with a twinkle in his eye. “Absolutely not, I’m there to watch Fitzgerald shirtless. Mmm, Garth…”

Benny shook his head and leaned forward out of habit. He stopped himself an inch or two from Dean’s lips and froze. “I bet. I’ll ah, talk to ya later, Dean.” He waved one hand and left.

Dean allowed himself a shy smile before Sam whistled slowly and said, “He was definitely about to kiss you. That’s cute.”

“Shut up,” He scowled and motioned for Sam to gather his books. “And is that really what we’re going to talk about, here? What the hell happened with Chuckles there? I thought you said he didn’t like you?” Sam groaned as Dean grinned ear to ear. “Was he just playing hard to get? How much leg’d you have to flash? Musta pulled out some stops for him to start dating you in _one day_  – ”

“Dean, he still likes you.” Sam shoved all his homework into his black bag and hoisted it up onto his shoulder.

The two navigated their way outside as Dean made short little noises of disbelief. Sam rolled his eyes and waited for Dean to unlock the car door. As soon as he heard the click, he slid into the passenger seat and immediately turned to stare out the window. Dean started the car and they drove in silence for a minute, before Dean started to say something and Sam cut him off.

“I really don’t want to talk about it.”

Dean didn’t reply, but he reached down and slipped a cassette into the player. Sam side-eyed him when Meatloaf started playing. They drove maybe another two minutes before they were both singing along, thrashing about in the car like they were both playing guitar and acting in a silent movie. At the last red light, they both cranked down their windows in order to scream, “PARADISE BY THE DASH- BOARD- LI-IGHT!” An old man in a silver Buick honked at them and they rolled the windows back up, laughing as the light turned green and their tires squealed out of the intersection.

The timing was almost perfect. The looping duet was just starting to fade out when they pulled into the driveway behind Bobby’s truck. Dean waited for a few seconds while the music died away before taking the keys out of the ignition and grabbing his books from the backseat. Sam followed him inside, and hovered next to the couch as Dean dumped his backpack on the coffee table.

“Um – okay,” Sam started. He looked down at his feet, a little embarrassed.

Dean smirked, heading to the kitchen. He knelt down in front of the refrigerator and pulled out two cans of soda, passing one to Sam. “You ready to talk about that bizarre situation now? I hope so, cause otherwise the dinner you invited yourselves to is gonna be really friggin’ awkward.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” Sam rolled the can between his hands for a moment. “I didn’t know he was gonna do any of that. But it’s kind of my fault? He’s gonna call me and hopefully explain what the hell he’s doing, but until then I mean – okay.” He opened the soda and took a drink. “You know last night when you told me to date his sister?”

Dean cracked open his can and took a swig. “Yeah?”

“Well, I accidentally give him the same advice. For you.” Sam looked into his soda like maybe it had the answer to his problem.

Dean opened his mouth a little bit and blinked. “So – so he’s pretending to date you? To – to get – oh. Wow.” In spite of himself, he started laughing. Sam glared and he put up his hands in apology. “It’s not actually that bad.”

“Really? Because I think it sucks.” Sam huffed.

Dean shrugged. “But now you’re dating! He’s already done the hard work for you; now all you gotta do is prove that you’re a better catch.” He narrowed his eyes and waved his can. “Not that it’ll be easy, since, you know.” With his other hand he gestured to his body in one long sweep.

“Yeah, about that.” Sam dumped the last drips of his soda into the sink and crushed the can. “You’re gonna have to be on my side for this. I can’t have you flirting with him or, or inviting him to stuff, or talking about how we’re ‘finally’ dating or whatever you said – he’s not an idiot, he’ll figure out that I really like him.”

“But – isn’t that the point?” Dean frowned.

Sam tossed the can into the recycling bin. “No. Yes. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter; he can’t find out. At least not right now.” He sighed. “I should just tell him.”

Dean balked. “What? No! Sam, you’ve got a foot in the door. As soon as he spends more than thirty minutes pretending to make goo-goo eyes at you – ”

“That’s the point, Dean, he’s just pretending!” Sam kicked at the bottom of the dishwasher. “I feel like I’m lying to him.”

Out in the garage they heard something clank to the floor and Bobby swore. They snapped their heads to the side before he called out he was okay, but Dean moved to the doorway. “You’re not lying, he is, to try and get to me.” He stopped and considered that for a moment. “Huh. Maybe that wasn’t really the best advice I’ve ever given.” Sam grunted in agreement before he continued. “The point is, don’t let a little bit of moral ambiguity stop you from going out to dinner with the guy – he invited you, remember? And I already know the game, so nobody’s really being taken advantage of, right?”

Sam shoved his hands into his pockets. “But he doesn’t know that you know, and he thinks I’m trying to help him date you. So I am lying, and it’s to my advantage because now he’s inviting me to dinner.” He jutted out his jaw.

With a laugh, Dean shook his finger at his brother. “Well, it looks like you’ve gotten yourself into some Shakespearean level shit. I’m sorry I got you into these Amanda Bynes hijinks, Sam. But you’ll figure it out.” Sam opened his mouth to disagree but Dean gave him a thumbs off and then pointed toward the garage, jogging out of the room and going to help Bobby.

Sam stood in the kitchen for a moment before gathering up his backpack and books to drag down the hallway to his room. He closed the door behind him with a sharp click and collapsed onto his bed. He stared up at the spackled ceiling, a model airplane hanging from one corner. The room was clean and modest, minimal furniture and a few picture frames, but it didn’t serve to clear his head today. It was cloying and empty, and the straight lines and white walls seemed smothering. Sam flipped over and buried his head under his pillow.

He stayed there for a few minutes until he could feel himself starting to fall asleep. Swearing under his breath, he turned back over and dug his phone out of his pocket. He grumbled before blowing the fringe out of his eyes with an air of determination and dialing Cas’ number.

As it started to ring, Sam lamented the fact that he’d had it memorized.

The phone stopped mid-ring and Sam could hear fumbling on the other end before Cas put his mouth close to the phone and said, “Hello?” His voice sounded like gravel against the mouthpiece and cut off the end of the word. He always spoke too loudly on the phone.

“Cas, it’s me.”

“Sam, hello. I’ve been waiting for you to call.”

“Yeah, what was all that?” Sam flipped onto his stomach and propped his cheek on his hand.

Cas huffed out a breath on the other end. “I said that time was of the essence. What better time to implement your plan than immediately? Besides, we got a date with the two of them. I think it was successful.”

“You think it was – okay, listen. What if I didn’t want to do this? I might be interested in someone else, and if Benny tells people that we’re dating – ”

“Are you interested in someone else?”

The line went silent as Sam froze. “I – no.” He could practically hear Cas smiling. “But what if I was?”

Cas answered immediately. “Then we could stop. I don’t want to make things difficult – I assumed you’d thought these things through. My apologies.” There wasn’t any hint of sarcasm in his words, and Sam felt his heart leap up into his throat.

“Well, uh,” Sam bit the inside of his cheek. “What all do you want me to do, if we’re posing as a – you know, together?” There was a crinkling of paper through the phone and Sam made a face. “Did you make a list?”

“Yes.” Cas cleared his throat. “We don’t need to pretend around everyone, only when Dean is around. And I suppose Dean’s close friends, otherwise they might give away the secret. Holding hands is a good baseline. Try and stay away from hugs mostly, because normally you hug me with pats at the end like a platonic male friend – ”

“I could linger,” Sam countered.

Cas thought for a moment and Sam could hear him scratch out a few words. “Yes, that will work.” Sam hid his smile behind his hand before realizing no one was there to see it. He laughed to himself, angling the phone so that the air didn’t give him away.

“Alright. Kisses won’t be necessary,” Sam stuck out his bottom lip. “Except in an extreme circumstance.”

“Heh, uh, what kind of circumstance are we talking about here?” Sam winced at how eager he sounded. “So we can try and avoid it – ” Well, that sounded hasty. He tried to correct it to a friendly question. “ – buddy.”

He put the phone down on the bed so he could smack himself in the forehead. _Buddy? Jesus Christ, Sam, get your shit together._  When he picked up the phone, he only caught the last half of what Cas was saying.

“ – then, well, follow my lead I suppose.”

“Alright, can do.” He nodded, trying to convince himself he really could.

Cas flipped through the notes. “Oh, and if we’re going to be talking on the phone or texting, try and put little pieces of romantic conversation in it. Pet names and such. X’s and O’s in text messages in case Dean looks at your phone – do couples do that?”

Sam wrinkled his nose. “X’s and O’s? Uh, I never do, but you can if you want. Dean won’t look at my phone, though.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

 Sam inclined his head and wondered if maybe he should have been taking notes, too. “Anything else?”

“Not off the top of my head. Are these conditions satisfactory?”

They weren’t awful. It wasn’t like he was really going to be taking advantage of Cas – and honestly, if it was only when Dean or Benny or Charlie was around, it wasn’t like they’d always be pretending. Sam found himself liking the idea more and more.

“Just one thing.”

“What?”

Sam allowed himself a real laugh. “You never officially asked me.”

“Oh.” Cas chuckled back. Sam could hear him folding the paper back into neat little squares. “Well, Sam – would you like to date me? Go steady? Go out with me? May I court you?”

The two of them giggled for a minute before Sam cleared his throat and said, “I would love to, Cas.”

“Good. Which of those invitations sounded best?” The phone crackled.

He hoped he didn’t sound too honest when he said, “All of them.”


	3. i'll be your levee

The brown car lurched around the corner and jolted to a halt in the driveway. Sam opened the front door before Castiel could even manage to turn off the ignition and slid into the passenger seat. The radio blasted earsplitting noise so loud Sam could barely recognize it as music, let alone what song it was.

They pulled out of the driveway and sat in silence for a few seconds before Sam spoke up. “You know, it does kinda ruin the effect if you don’t get here in time for Dean to see you pick me up.”

“My sincerest apologies.” Castiel pursed his lips while staring straight ahead. He didn’t sound particularly sincere. Sam waited, biting his lower lip to hide his smile. As he expected, Cas finally turned to him at a red light and spilled his excuse.

Castiel had insisted he drive Sam to the pizza place. Neither of them had realized it would be such an ordeal. His father was late coming home from work, so he was forced to beg his older brother to borrow his car. Zachariah, of course, said no. Cas asked each of his siblings in turn until one offered him a trade for a week’s worth of vacuuming and another of washing dishes. Without another ride, Cas couldn’t refuse. He smacked the steering wheel before exhaling deeply.

Sam shook his head in understanding. “Brothers, man. They’re the worst.”

“Yes,” Cas agreed. “Except yours.”

Sam opened his mouth to argue, and then closed it with an audible click of his teeth. “Can I turn the music down?” The loud thumping of Uriel’s radio slammed through the speakers, but Cas slapped his hand away from the dial. He winced apologetically.

“Uriel told me that if I touched anything from the sound system he’d chop off my fingers and feed them to me.” He turned on his blinker and slowly merged into the left turn lane. “I think he’s found the loudest possible setting where his speakers won’t blow out and he doesn’t want to accidentally miss it by turning it back up from a normal volume.” He looked over at Sam, who had closed his eyes and accepted the fact he’d be temporarily deaf for the night.

With a hum, Cas pressed the volume dial in the center and the music disappeared completely, leaving an echo in Sam’s ears. He raised an eyebrow and Cas shrugged. “Technically, it’s still on the same settings.”

“Yeah, just remember to turn it back on before you get home.”

They pulled into the parking lot and Castiel turned off the engine. Sam pulled off his seatbelt. “We’re late. This is becoming a new trend for you.”

Cas made a face in response and slid out of the front seat, waiting to lock the car behind Sam.

He shook out his shoulders and looked at Sam before pushing open the front door to the restaurant. “Ready?”

Sam nodded and Cas pushed on the door, frowning when it didn’t open. He squinted at the door and then groaned, taking a step backwards so he could pull the handle instead. The two of them were still giggling about it by the time they spotted Dean and Benny, who had snagged a corner booth and were waving them over.

Dean scooted over to make room for the two of them, and Cas stepped in front of Sam to sandwich himself between the the two Winchesters. The brothers made eye contact and Dean had to hold back a laugh at Sam’s expression. He pushed away a plate on the table filled with crumbs and bits of cheese stuck to the bottom.

“We had to get stuffed mushrooms because you dorks took nine years to get here and Benny was  _starving_ ,” Dean complained. Benny elbowed him in the side.

“Quit lyin’ about hatin’ mushrooms. They’re delicious and you ate at least half of ‘em.” The two stuck their tongues out at each other and Cas huffed a little, wrinkling his nose at the little pieces of bread still in their mouths.

“Sorry, there were some unforeseen complications. But we’re here now.” He smiled politely. “Do you know what you two are ordering?”

Dean opened his mouth like he was getting ready for an argument, but Benny cut him off before he could say anything. “Well, looks like Dean here is too cheap to get separate pizzas, so we’re gonna hafta share. We’re doing sausage, black olive, and onion ‘cause he’s too picky to eat peppers like a real man.” Dean shook his head the whole time Benny was talking.

Cas raised his eyebrows. “Oh, you’re sharing one? That’s – that’s very cute.” He threw an arm around Sam’s shoulder awkwardly, shifting his entire torso to wrap around the taller boy. It might have been meant to look effortless, but Sam had to twist his spine to try and fit into the crook of Cas’ arm. They looked less cute, more uncomfortable.

Benny laughed a little. “Nah, it’s really just ‘cause I refuse to pay for two pies and Dean’s positive I’ll just make him his own personal pizza later - ” He shot a pointed glance in his direction. “I’m not gonna, though. Pizza ain’t fun to cook alone.”

“Well you could always invite me to make it with you,” Dean offered. Benny ducked his head and smiled with a little shrug.

Sam rolled his shoulder, wondering when Cas would take his arm down. “Cas, do you know what you want?” Maybe that was the wrong question, since he actually tightened his embrace. It kind of hurt.

“I just figured we’d share, too. But not because we’re cheap. Because our tastes are so aligned.” Cas shot the phoniest smile possible in Sam’s direction. It was a good thing Dean already knew what was going on, because there’s no way he would have let this slide. Benny tilted his head to the side and glanced at Dean, who minutely shook his head with an unspoken promise to explain later. Sam chuckled after a beat and agreed.

“Yeah, Cas – whatever you want, we’ll get that.” He quickly added, “Because we like the same stuff.”

Cas smiled, pleased with their deception thus far. “How does pepperoni sound?”

Dean couldn’t hold back a snort. “Sam hates pepperoni.”

“I don’t _hate_ it…” Sam started to say. He could see Cas going bright red next to him as he removed his arm from Sam’s shoulders. He wildly attempted to come up with an explanation. “Okay, you caught me. I lied.” Cas was going to give him so much crap for this later. “I just wanted you to like me, so I pretended to like the same stuff you did. It was a terrible idea, huh?” He looked down at the table and clasped his hands together. It had the dual effect of making him look a little embarrassed and avoiding the dirty look Cas was almost definitely sending his way.

Sam was a little surprised when Cas didn’t seem to lose his composure at all. Instead, he intertwined their hands together and said, “It’s okay. I like you even if you don’t like pepperoni pizza. Although it’s very strange.” He frowned and Dean exclaimed his agreement.

“Whatever. I’m gonna tell you now – my favorite pizza is Hawaiian. Canadian bacon, pineapple, all that jazz. Are you sure you still like me?” Sam laughed as Cas scrunched up his nose dramatically.

“I suppose I can learn to cope with your strange eating habits. The rest of you is worth it.” Cas smiled sweetly, and Sam didn’t have to fake his grin.

Dean coughed loudly until his brother kicked him under the table. He yelped in response and turned to Benny for support, but he just shrugged. “Tease all you want, but you talk sweeter’n that ta me all the time,  _pooh bear_.”

Sam burst out into laughter as his brother thunked his head onto the table in mortification. “I like you,” Sam nodded at Benny even as he realized that the plan might be starting to head south. For Cas, at least.

He looked a little disgruntled, sitting there amidst all the sudden camaraderie. Sam pulled out his phone and typed out a text under the table.

 **6:42** – maybe we should call off the plan???

Cas frowned as his phone vibrated in his pocket. He glanced at the screen and then at Sam, typing out a response.

 **6:44** – _Why?_

Sam’s thumbs hovered above the phone for a moment. What could he say? ‘Because you seem miserable’? ‘Because those two obviously really like each other and I know you well enough that you’d feel bad about breaking them up’? ‘Because I hate lying’? ‘Because you’re going to get your heart broken and it’s my fault’?

“Aw, look at them,” Dean cooed. “Texting under the table like a true underclassmen couple.” Sam opened his mouth to object, but Dean continued, softer, “You really are kinda cute together. Castiel, you better not break my little brother’s heart, or you’ll have me to deal with. And I hit really hard.”

Cas raised an eyebrow, his lip twitching. “I would expect nothing less from someone as muscular as you are.”

“What?” Dean looked down at his arms before flexing his left bicep under Benny’s nose. “Oh, are you talking about these? I don’t even lift.”

A quiet buzz came from Sam’s palm, and he looked down to see another text.

**6:46** _See, everything’s going according to plan._

Before Sam could send a reply, the waitress came to the table with her notepad in her hand. “Sorry that took so long, guys! I’m Paula, and I’m going to be your server tonight. Can I grab you any drinks?”

They placed their orders and as she left a quiet fell over the table. The background noises of other tables chatting exacerbated the sudden silence. Sam fidgeted with his unrolled silverware until Cas covered his hand with his own again. Their hands fit together, soft and smooth and starting to make Sam sweat nervously.

He took a deep breath and Dean looked up at the sound. He clenched his jaw in mild concern. “So, uh, Sam, Cas,” He looked up at the ceiling like maybe it would have a conversation topic written on the tiles.

“How’d you two meet?” Benny supplied, propping up his chin on his hand. Sam had to give him credit – for a night that had been as awkward as this one, he was doing a stupendous job of acting interested.

“Um, funny story, actually,” Sam looked at Cas and laughed a little bit. “We were in marching band together before I dropped concert band in the spring to focus on my other extracurriculars, and I was playing my mom’s old clarinet. But everyone in band always craps on the clarinet line!”

Benny nodded sagely. “I used ta play snare; we gave the clarinets so much hell.”

“Right, well, they had a saxophone player drop after the drills had already been written up, and so there was a hole in the line, and the teacher asked me if I’d mind using one of the school’s saxes and fill in, because their forms required the right number of people and the clarinets’ didn’t.”

Dean groaned. “This is the nerdiest story I’ve ever heard. In my entire life. Get to the end.”

“Rude,” Cas noted.

“Anyway,” Sam continued. “I showed up Monday with my shitty rusty alto sax and my chartbook for learning where to stand, and I was so excited to meet this Castiel, because he was already a line captain as a sophomore? He had to be just incredible! Like, ridiculously talented. Especially as a sax player, I mean – and I was just so stoked, and I met him and made a total idiot of myself, just stumbling over words, and - ”

“You were not that bad.”

“I was pretty bad. But anyway, after this big long rambling speech about how I was honored to meet him – gag me, I know – he was like, ‘Sam Winchester. The clarinet alternate,’ and I just deflated – I was so excited and he was like ‘ew, clarinets’.” He chuckled to himself and mimicked Cas’ voice again. “‘The clarinet alternate.’”

Cas was appalled. “I did not sound like that! I mean, you were the clarinet alternate. It was a fact. Band is made of teams! We didn’t know you, and I was concerned about the well-being of my line! You showed up every day in a black muscle car, for God’s sake. What if you had been a hooligan?”

“A  _what_?”

With a little huff, Cas shook his head indignantly. “In my defense, you did look like a bit of a ne’er-do-well.”

Sam wheezed as he tried to stop laughing. “ _Ne’er-do-well_?” Cas covered his face with his hand like he was exhausted by Sam’s ludicrousness, but his shaking shoulders betrayed him.  Sam pulled his hand off his face and cheered when Cas smiled wider and batted his hand away.

“Stop, it’s not funny!” He laughed. “Look, I was right, you’re being a hooligan right now.”

“Oh, whatever,” Sam squeezed Cas’ hand on a whim and was rewarded with another in return.

They let go as Paula came back with two pizzas on thin metal trays. “Careful,” she cautioned. “They’re hot. Don’t burn yourselves.”

 

The pizza was delicious, and Sam thanked Benny profusely for inviting them. He gritted his teeth as Cas did the same to Dean, who waved his hand in the air as a response.

“No problem, man. Hey, if you want, I can just drive Sam home?”

“No!” Cas nearly shouted, and Dean did a double-take. “Uh, I mean, no thank you. I was going to ask if he wanted to. I don’t know. Hang out, a little more?” He turned to Sam, who had one hand on the door to the Impala. “Do you? Want to hang out, just us.” He opened his eyes wide and jerked his head toward the Lincoln.

Sam blinked before startling to attention. “Oh! Yeah, sure.” He shrugged at Dean and waved to Benny before sliding into the car. They pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road before Cas turned to the side expectantly.

“Well? I think that went really well.”

“After you stopped being so weird, yeah,” Sam agreed. Cas made a noise of indignation and he hastened to explain. “Dean has met you before. He can tell when you’re not being sincere. He’ll probably chalk this one up as nervous awkward energy, because you’re awkward.”

“Shut up.” Cas flicked the air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror at Sam and missed. “I’m not awkward.”

“You’re pretty awkward.” Sam looked out the window at the beige houses they passed. “But awkward’s not bad.”

Cas snorted as he cranked the steering wheel to the right. “Yes, it is. Awkward is awkward because it’s abnormal. It makes other people uncomfortable because it’s not socially acceptable behavior.”

“What? Cas, no. You’re not so awkward that people don’t wanna be around you – it’s a good awkward. Awkward is cute.” As soon as he said it, Sam regretted it. But Cas looked thoughtful.

“Hm. Perhaps. I guess it just depends what Dean likes. It’s so difficult, because he’s with Benny but he also dated that girl Bela until she got suspended for cheating – but he also went to like three dances with Cassie, and she’s lovely. Very intelligent. I can’t figure out his type.” He pressed his lips together before looking at Sam abruptly. “Do you want to go to Centennial Park? We can just sit and talk for a bit.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good. My phone’s starting to die, though.”

“We won’t be too long.” He looked in the rearview mirror for traffic and switched lanes to turn onto West 6th.

The city had just installed a tiny playground next to the parking lot, and they trudged across the grass to the swing set. They rocked back and forth, Cas’ feet barely scraping the patch of dirt below. The sky was beginning to tint indigo; it was getting dark quickly. Birds rustled in the trees above them, but other than that the park was mostly silent except for the squeaking of the chains on the swings.

Cas turned in his seat, slouching to stop his swing. “I’m sorry that I was so rude when we first met.”

“Cas, it’s fine.” Sam pumped his legs, motioning for Cas to start moving again. He waited until they were at the same height before he continued. “It’s not like you were really being a dick or anything. I just wanted a real story to tell at dinner, not some crap Dean would have seen right through.”

“Oh.” Cas hummed his agreement. “Well, you could have told a better story. A cute one.” He stopped for a minute, glancing over at Sam to try and match his pace. “Remember when you had to help me get into the top cabinets for construction paper and you touched my butt?”

Sam stuck out his legs and skidded to a halt. “That wasn’t cute, that was awful!”

“Why, because then you dropped me?”

“You announced to everyone I touched your butt!” Sam looked away, trying to hide his furious blush, but Cas laughed and reached out with a foot as he passed from behind. He aimed squarely at the bottom of the swing and his foot landed on the left side of Sam’s ass.

“There. Now I touched yours, too.” He leaned away as Sam tried to kick him back, and his seat started to swing in circles. “I felt bad that you were embarrassed. It was just an observation. It happens when people give other people boosts.”

“Still awful.” Sam grimaced. “What about when I tried to trick you into watching Titanic and then you really liked it?”

Cas blew a raspberry and leaned back, looking up at the sky. “It’s a beautiful story about destiny and free will. Besides, you were the one quoting every other line.”

The birds above them called out a song, and they stopped swinging to listen. Sam twisted the swing’s chain in his hand. “This is the kind of stuff you should be sharing. It makes you seem like a real person – and you’re a great person, really.” He looked down at his lap and folded his hands together. “I meant it earlier, when I said that about it being a terrible idea to pretend stuff for other people. I – Dean will like you better if you’re honest. And then if you end up dating, you won’t have to keep faking it.”

“Dating?” Cas laughed a little bitterly. “I think we both know that’s not really on the table, even if I loved him with all my heart and soul. Whatever Dean’s type, it’s not me. Which is a shame, since we have so much in common.”

It took a major act of willpower for Sam to keep from laughing. “Yeah? Such as?”

Cas scowled. “Lots of things. Such as … you. We both care about you.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth before gasping, suddenly remembering. “And we are both very much about the sex.”

Sam opened and closed his mouth before shaking his head. “You are not.”

“Am so! Dean and I are both extremely sexual.” He nodded earnestly. “I am always thinking about sex. It’s totally normal for a teenage boy. It would be weird if I wasn’t, right?” Sam joined in as he laughed, looking at the dirt. An uncomfortable quiet fell around them as the comment died. Cas looked around them for something to fill the silence with. “I mean, you dated Ruby, and she’s the same way – I’m sure you two were constantly having sex.”

“She sure wanted to.” Sam spit out. The words sounded acidic on his tongue and they hung in the air like poison between the two.

It was too much. Sam hopped off his swing, brushing dust from his jeans. “I should probably get going home.”

Cas followed suit, a sunny smile on his face. “Okay, let me grab my keys and I’ll take you,” he started to say, but Sam held up a hand and began to back away.

“No, it’s okay. It’s nice out and we’re halfway there anyway. I’ll just walk.”

Cas looked up at the dark sky and frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely.” Sam gave half a salute as he stepped towards the park entrance. “This was really fun, though.”

“Yeah.” Cas was still frowning, rolling his keys between his fingers. “Call me when you get home, okay? I don’t want you to get mugged.”

Sam actually laughed at that, something like a snort coming from his throat. “I’ll be fine. But yeah, I’ll call you. G’night, Cas.”

“Good night, Sam.” Cas waved before turning in the other direction to walk to his car. Sam stopped and watched as the headlights turned on and the beige car slowly pulled out of the lot. Cas waved behind his head in the rearview mirror until the road curved out of Sam’s sight. He sighed and pushed his bangs out of his eyes. It was gonna be a long walk home.


	4. you are taking me apart

The streetlights at night were eerie, casting sallow glows against the trees. Everything seemed significantly more sinister than it had been less than half an hour earlier. Sam fidgeted with the zipper on his hoodie before shoving his hands firmly into the pockets and continuing on his way. It wasn’t like Bobby’s house was too far from here. And he really had wanted some time to walk and think for himself. It was just difficult to wax melancholic over heartache when he was a little concerned about whether or not the shadows were following him.

Cas obviously was not interested in the same sorts of things that Sam was. Fine. He sniffed a little, slouching as he walked. It wasn’t like he’d been sending mixed messages. Ever since he found out that Dean would go to bed with most anyone who had a pretty face, he’d been smitten. Sam should have been used to it by now. But every time he tacked it onto the end of their conversations it felt like a kick in the jaw.

He stopped walking, grinding his teeth together and trying not to think about it. It didn’t matter. He had to just get over it. Sam turned away from the road, rolling his shoulders one at a time. It never would have worked anyway, not with –

The short break in Sam’s vigilance had come at exactly the wrong time. From behind him, there was a screech on the uneven asphalt and a single bright headlight trained on the back of his head. The car headed straight for him before turning at the last second and sliding to a stop. It was a black little sports car that had seen better days but couldn’t have been cheap. Sam was torn between confronting the owner about their reckless driving and getting the fuck out of the park. Luckily, he didn’t have to make the decision.

“What’s a pretty young thing like you doing all alone on a night like this?” The driver leered over the window with a wink.

Sam gaped for a second before laughing, his hand on his chest in relief. “Ruby?”

She grinned and turned off her brights. “In the flesh. Really though, what the fuck are you doing in Centennial Park? Some real shady shit goes on down here.”

He crossed over to her car, toeing at the dirt. “I suppose that’s why you’re hanging around?”

Ruby shrugged, her dark curls falling across her shoulders. “Why else would anyone be in this dump?”

“There’s swings and stuff!” Sam protested. “You could sit and have a nice conversation with someone. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

She squinted at him for a moment before shaking her head fondly and gesturing to the passenger seat. “It’s been a really long time since I got to talk to you. I’m starving; you wanna go get tacos?”

He looked up at the spindly trees and considered if he could fit a burrito in his stomach. “Nah, I’m gonna have to pass. I just had dinner with Dean and Benny and Cas.”

“Who’s Cas?” Ruby asked, one eyebrow raised in interest. Sam shrugged and she sighed. “Can I at least give you a ride? It’s dangerous out here. There’s rabid animals and muggers and really big spiders.”

Sam rolled his eyes and walked around the car to the passenger seat. He gingerly sat against the black leather and smiled at Ruby before thanking her.

“No problem. But seriously, why are you out here this late without a car?”

He looked down at his fingernails and then at the clock. It wasn’t even eight yet. “I’m not a baby.”

She snorted. “Debatable.”

“I forgot how pleasant you were,” Sam deadpanned. “Really a joy to be around.”

She looked up and put a hand to her chest like she was flattered. “I can’t help it. I’m made to be loved.” She dropped her expression and softly elbowed him in the side. “Except by you, of course.”

“Shut up,” Sam smiled at the joke, but it was hollow.

Ruby frowned. “Okay, what’s up?”

“Hm?” Sam looked away from her, pointing straight ahead. “You remember where I live, right?”

“Shut up, yeah, but are you okay?” Ruby flicked his arm when he started to nod. “That was rhetorical; I know you’re not. You can’t hide that shit from me, remember? Tell me why you’re in the creepy park alone and I’ll drive you home. Until then,” She pulled the gear shift back into drive and motioned for Sam to put his seat belt on. “We’re gonna go get tacos.” She ignored his groans and sped off down the road, swerving against the hairpin turns.

“I don’t want a taco, I wanna go home.” Sam pressed his lips into a straight line.

“Nah, you wanna talk about your issues with your ex-girlfriend because she’s the only person that understands you.” Ruby patted his arm in mock sympathy. “Come on, it’ll make you feel better. I’ll even buy you a churro.”

Sam chuckled at that, but swatted her hand away. “I’m fine, really. A churro will probably make it hard to sleep tonight. I just had way too much pizza.”

“Is that part of the problem?” Ruby didn’t take her eyes off the road, but Sam hesitated for a beat too long. “Oh my god, it is. Is Cas your new girlfriend?”

Sam closed his eyes and sighed. “It’s so, so complicated. But he’s a boy, so.” All his muscles tensed as he waited for Ruby’s reaction.

“So?” She prompted. He relaxed visibly, even in her peripheral vision. “Is that the issue, you’re having some dumb identity crisis thing again? Quit worrying so much!” She fiddled with the volume dial and changed the radio station to something softer. “If he likes you, you like him, awesome. I don’t know why people gotta make it so complicated. Even the lack of sex isn’t an issue if he cares about you.” She glanced at him meaningfully. “You dumped me, remember?”

Sam bristled a little. “That’s the problem. He likes Dean. We’re pretending to date so he can hang out at my house more.”

Ruby was silent for a moment. “That’s literally the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” She managed, jaw slack. Sam inclined his head in agreement.

“Yeah, not exactly my finest hour as relationships go.”

They slowed as Ruby pulled into the drive through. She glared at the minivan in front of them before turning to Sam with a question. “So, does Dean know?” Sam nodded and she closed her eyes in exasperation. “So you’re both using each other to get to spend time with the person you like. That seems healthy. What’s this kid even like?”

Sam threaded his fingers together and looked down at his lap. “He’s – he’s great, Ruby,” he stammered. “He loves languages, and music, and we laugh about the stupidest things together.” He turned to her sharply, a smile starting to tug at the corners of his mouth. “And, and his eyes. Wow, Ruby, he’s just beautiful. And so sweet. He asked if I wanted to go volunteer at an animal shelter with him, and I thought it was for a school thing – but no, he just wanted to help animals.”

“That’s disgustingly sweet.” Ruby allowed with a pretend grimace.

Sam pushed at her arm. “Shut up. I just – I really like him.” He looked ahead as the minivan drove away and they moved forward. “But every time we get a great moment like that, he just tacks on comments about wanting to sleep with Dean.” He made a face and Ruby hummed appreciatively. She held up a finger while she ordered two soft shells and two churros.

He leaned over and whispered, “Ruby, I said I didn’t want a taco.”

“Whoa there, buddy. Girl can’t eat two tacos?” She huffed at him before pulling forward, lifting her hips to grab the wallet out of her pocket. She handed a few crumpled bills to the freckled kid in the window and cooed as he handed her a bag.

“Hell yeah. Take your churro,” she instructed as she stepped on the gas and sped out of the parking lot. “We’re gonna sit at the end of your street. I’m gonna eat these tacos. You’re gonna eat your churro. And then we’ll sort out your shit.”

Sam unwrapped the edges of the churro and licked cinnamon sugar off his thumb, eyeing the dessert warily. “You don’t have to go all guidance counselor on me, you know.”

She shrugged with one shoulder. “Yeah, but who else will?”

It wasn’t a terrible question. Sam took a bite and chewed quietly as Ruby pulled to the side of the road and turned off her lights. Before she even took her key out of the ignition, she stuck her hand inside the bag and rustled around until throwing her arm in the air, triumphant with her taco. “Alright, shoot. So you’re pretending to date this guy. What does that have to do with you walking through the park like a kicked puppy?”

He looked up at the flickering streetlamp across the street before exhaling and starting at the beginning. Ruby nodded at the right parts and gasped or groaned appropriately. By the end of the story, she had crumpled her wrappers into paper balls and shoved them into the backseat of her car, her arms freed up to prop up her chin as she listened.

“Honestly, I think you’ve got a shot with this guy.” Ruby reasoned. “What normal, sane person would do all that shit to get with their best friend’s brother? It doesn’t add up, Sam. He’s gotta be repressing some intense emotions for you. Freud wrote all about that kinda shit.”

“Freud wrote about penises,” Sam rolled his eyes. “Which is the reason I know Cas doesn’t like me, so, I guess you’re kinda right.”

Ruby blew a raspberry. “Oh my god, shut up. So he wants to bang your brother – who can blame him? I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about that ass as a rebound – ”

“Gross.”

“ – but the point is, that’s not all that matters. I don’t know why I gotta explain it to you, of all people.” She looked at him pointedly. “Love and sex aren’t the same thing. I would bang the shit outta Dean, but even if I was the kind of person who wanted to hold hands in the movie theater and adopt twenty dogs and shell out money for Valentine’s candy before the fourteenth, I wouldn’t be in love with him. So, worry less. If your boyfriend is as much of a dweeb as you’re making him out to be, he’ll figure out his mistake very shortly and run back to you, the hot librarian in training. It just makes sense.”

Sam picked at the lining of his hoodie, rolling lint between his fingers. “Thanks.”

“I mean it.” She frowned. “Quit feeling sorry for yourself. You’re gonna end up snorting cuddle dust with him any day now. So stop the pity party. Just hang out with him and he’ll see that you’re a great guy. Okay?”

He smiled in spite of himself. “Okay. Thanks. For real.” Sam folded his hands together and straightened out his spine. “You’re a good friend.”

“Shut up.” Ruby scoffed.

“No, I mean it!” He echoed her. “You’re a really good friend, and I appreciate that you’re sitting here with your ex and talking about a stupid situation _and_ managing to pick me out of the sad hole I dug to sit in.”

“Yeah, well,” Ruby trailed off. “I guess. Whatever. If you do, you know, ever need someone to talk to about this – or anything – I’m here for you, okay? I want you to be happy. I wasn’t lying about that.”

Sam nodded minutely. “I know.”

They sat there quietly, a few cars cruising down the street past them. The town around them was almost completely silent, and it occurred to Sam that he was supposed to have called Cas when he got home. He pulled the phone out of his pocket with a grunt and poked at the screen to no avail. It was dead.

Ruby watched him with slight interest. “You expecting a call, or?”

“I was supposed to tell Cas I got home okay – what time is it?” He followed her finger to the car radio, where it said 10:02 in bright green numbers. “Oh, shit.”

She nodded and flapped her hands at him as she unlocked the car doors. Sam barreled out of her car, dodging the front fender and waving to her behind his head. He called his thanks and tried to jog backwards so that she could see his face, but he tripped over his tennis shoes. He caught his balance before he fell, but looked up to see Ruby laughing and the car driving away. As she turned off his street, something loud and thumping came on mid-song and lasted until after she was out of sight.

The front door opened easily as Sam pressed his shoulder against it to fiddle with his keys. He blinked and walked in. Dean was sitting at the kitchen table on his laptop and looked up. “Oh, hey, Sam. Have fun with Cas?”

“Not really,” Sam muttered. “Do you have a charger out here?”

Dean shook his head soundlessly. “Sorry.”

“’S okay. I just have to charge my phone and call Cas to let him know I got home okay.”

“What?” Dean pulled his single earbud out and started to stand before Sam motioned for him to sit back down. “Didn’t he drive you here?”

Sam shrugged. “Nah. I told him I’d walk from the park and then I ran into Ruby so we caught up. It was fine, seriously.”

“Oh.” Dean settled back into the chair with a wicked grin. “Ruby, huh?”

Sam groaned. “I’m going to my room.”

He headed down the hallway as Dean called behind him, “I’m just saying, keep your options open!” Sam shut the door behind him and knelt by the outlet next to his bed. He picked at the tab on his phone and plugged it into the wall, waiting for it to turn on.

The familiar logo spread across the screen with a cheesy animation and it chimed once as the main screen flickered into view. Sam kicked his legs out as he settled onto the rug and leaned against his bedframe. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking about what Ruby had said. Maybe he’d been overreacting a little bit. Obsessing over Cas’ sudden obsession with Dean’s dick wasn’t going to help him out if he couldn’t even get Cas to see him as more than a friend. Baby steps.

His phone buzzed against the carpet, moving a few inches. Probably a text finally being received. It buzzed again, bouncing against the metal frame of the bed. He leaned over to pick it up and dropped it as it vibrated again. Sam swore, swiveling his hips so that he could lay on his stomach next to the cord. The texts piled on, one after another as Sam tried to swipe past the lock screen.

A fat little envelope flashed in the corner of the screen. It danced as it alerted Sam: You have (8) unread messages, (3) missed calls, and (2) new voicemails.

Sam pulled at the drawstring on his hoodie nervously. This seemed a little excessive. An ugly voice whispered, “What if he’s hurt?” Sam furrowed his brow and told it to shut up. It wasn’t even guaranteed that it was all Castiel. He did have other friends. Sam tapped on the missed calls.

2 missed calls from Castiel Shurley

Sam pursed his lips and clicked on the voicemails. The voice informed him whose number had called and went on to play the message. The background rustled a bit and Cas spoke into the mouthpiece. He was too close and the front of his word got cut off. “-orry. Please call back.” The line cut out.

“End of message. To repeat the message, please press – ” Sam pressed 7. “Second unheard message.”

There was no rustling this time, but Cas was tapping his fingers on the back of the phone. “Sam Winchester. Call me back, I’m worried about you. I’m sorry if I offended you somehow. I – yes. It’s getting late and I’ve sent multiple texts and you usually reply within seconds.” Sam cringed. “Please. Call me or I’ll have to borrow the car again to go looking for you. I knew I shouldn’t have let you walk.” His voice trailed off halfway through the last sentence as he studied the screen to find the button to end the call.

“End of message. To repeat the – ”

Sam exited the voicemail menu and scrolled through the texts.

 **8:15** _Hello. Did you get home okay? Haha._

 **8:32** _Sam?_

 **9:00** _Are you there?_

 **9:13** _Are you ignoring me?_

 **9:15** _It’s been an hour. I’m calling you._

 **9:17** _Your phone rang._

 **9:18** _You didn’t pick up._

 **9:45** _I called again. Now it’s dead. I don’t know what to do and I’m very concerned._

Sam looked at the clock on the phone and shook his head as he dialed Cas’ number. He answered on the second ring.

“Sam?”

“Hey, Cas.”

“I thought you died.”

Sam couldn’t hold back a laugh, and he could practically hear Cas being offended. “My phone did. I’m fine, though. Sorry I worried you.”

“It’s okay. I wasn’t that worried.” Cas said after a pause.

“Really? Cause you left eight text messages and called five times.” Sam turned his head away from the door as he smiled. Cas blustered on the other end about the dangers of walking alone and Sam wondered if maybe it shouldn’t make him feel so good, how nervous Cas had been. His chest felt like it was filled with a big red balloon. He fidgeted with happiness as he was chastised.

Cas had stopped talking and Sam shook himself out of his thoughts. “Hm?”

“I said, what were you even doing?”

“Oh,” Sam pulled at his sleeve. “I was walking home and I saw Ruby – you know her, right? And she asked if I wanted to get churros and catch up or whatever so I said sure, and then my phone died and I didn’t realize because I was talking to her. So.” He shrugged, even as he realized Cas couldn’t see him. “So no big deal.”

The line was quiet and Sam looked to the side. “Uh, Cas?”

“Yeah, I know her,” Cas’ voice came through the phone flat. “You two dated.” He didn’t say it like a question, but Sam answered anyway.

“Mhm.” He froze, remembering their earlier conversation. “Well, I mean, just for a little while.” Cas didn’t say anything. “I dumped her. Not that it matters. But I, uh, I did. Dump her.” If he’d been standing he would have tried to kick himself.

Cas finally answered. “Well. You could have called. Before your phone died.”

Sam opened his mouth to argue how rude that would have been before he identified the tone of Cas’ voice. “I’m … sorry?”

“Why?” Cas asked. “I don’t own you. You can hang out with whomever you please. It’s not like you like her anymore. And even if you did, I wouldn’t care – you and I, we’re not really together.”

“Right.” Sam rolled his eyes. Of course he had to go there. “We are not. But I still should have called you. You’re right.” He smoothed out his jeans as he psyched himself up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“It’s okay,” Cas allowed.

“No, really.” Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. “You uh, mean a lot to me. I care about you.”

“Is Dean there?” Cas asked.

Sam looked around the room in confusion. “Why?”

The phone sighed. “Is that why you’re saying that?”

“What? No!” Sam’s heart sank against his ribs. “I’m being honest, Cas.”

“Oh.” As Sam was about to apologize for the whole mishap, Cas spoke low into the phone. “You, too. I was really worried. I’m glad you’re okay.” But all the softness disappeared as he reprimanded, “Next time just call me. Or I’ll call the police. Or something. Okay.” He searched for something else to say. “That’s it. Good night, Sam.”

“Night, Cas.”

They disconnected and Sam stared at his phone for a minute before laughing out loud. A knock came at his door and he looked up to see Dean waving his hand inside the room through the door’s crack. “You decent?”

“Yeah.” Sam stood up gingerly, shaking out his legs. “What’s up?”

“Just wondering what you were talking to the boyfriend about,” Dean wiggled his eyebrows before shoving his hands into his pockets.

Sam shook his head, smiling. “He was worried because I didn’t call him before hanging out with Ruby, my ex-girlfriend.”

Dean gaped. “No shit? Did he really say it like that?” At Sam’s nod he let out a low whistle. “You got this one in the bag, Sammy. I’m proud of you, kid.” He took two steps into his brother’s room and mussed Sam’s hair before stealing outside with a chuckle.

Sam flopped onto his covers with a contented sigh before wriggling under them. Maybe Ruby had been right after all. He slept soundly, in spite of the churro.


	5. like bad glue

“—and that’s when I realized, she hadn’t been wearing any the entire time.”

“Seriously?”

Ruby squinted, although her face was turned away from the tall windows in the cafeteria. “Samuel. Would I lie?”

He laughed in response and chose to ignore her use of his full name. “Well, sometimes I wonder. I can’t believe that really worked, though.”

She shrugged, licking salt from her fries off her fingers. “Why? It makes sense. She didn’t know she wanted to be with me until she realized the other option wasn’t as great as previously advertised. It’s just like you and Casserole. Let him actually spend some time with Dean. He’ll come back with his tail between his legs and a limp dick, all ready to cuddle and apologize.” Ruby batted her eyelashes, sliding her pinky out of her mouth with a short pop.

As Sam began to reproach her for the obscene gesture, a hollow clatter sounded behind them. Both students turned. Cas stood there with his tray on the table, awkwardly shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

“I’m not interrupting anything, I hope?”

“Oh, God, no,” Sam pushed his backpack out of the way and patted the table. “We were just talking about Ruby’s girlfriend.”

“Oh?” Cas raised an eyebrow and settled into his seat. He frowned at the soggy hamburger and began to tear at the corners of his ketchup packets. “Does she go here?”

Ruby shook her head, then spoke around the last bite of beef. “Nah, she got suspended and her dick of a dad pulled her out. He’s an idiot. But she’s a great girl – we’re on the same wavelength, you know?” She swallowed completely and picked up a fry to gesture with. “It’s rare to find someone you _go_  with, you know?”

Sam stole a glance at Castiel and caught him staring back. They both looked away. Sam had never been more grateful for the dark curls covering the tips of his ears, which were a hot, full red. Ruby suppressed a smile and there was silence for a moment.

“So, uh,” Sam stammered. “Did you see that the fair was this weekend?” He could see Ruby nodding encouragingly out of the corner of his eye.

Castiel wiped a blob of ketchup from his the corner of his mouth. “Yes.”

That was promising. “I was thinking I could get tickets and we could go with – with Dean and Benny? But Benny’s visiting family down south so he can’t come. Does that sound … good?”

A small smile spread across Cas’ face as he looked down at his tray. “Yes. That sounds good. Thank you, Sam.” He reached across the table to rest his hand on Sam’s for a moment before pulling away.

“Well, this has been sufficiently nauseating,” Ruby muttered as the bell rang and students pulled away from their tables to go to class. “I’ll see you later, Sam, yeah? And it was good talking to you, Cas.” She shrugged into her backpack and made finger guns at the two boys before heading out. Sam chuckled to himself and Cas quirked his mouth to one side.

“Ruby is … quite the character,” he finally managed.

Sam grinned as he rubbed his chin. “Yeah, yeah she is.”

Cas craned his neck to watch her leave. “And she’s dating someone else, now? That’s sweet. She seems to care about her very much.”

“Well – yeah.”

“I wonder if they’re in love,” Cas mused as they stood up and grasped their trays. Sam shook his head and set his milk carton right side up.

“Nah, Ruby’s aro.” He was expecting the silent request for clarification that Cas sent his way, but it was still a little disappointing. “Aromantic, it means – ”

“No, I know what it means,” Cas interrupted. “You believe her?”

Sam stopped moving, his eyebrows knit together in a frown. “What? Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know,” Cas shrugged. “Some people just – might think that it’s the kind of thing that only exists on the internet.” Sam opened his mouth and then shut it immediately, taking a deep breath through his nose and willing away the flush of anger. Maybe Castiel noticed, because he put a hand on Sam’s elbow and said, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be offensive – it’s just something I’ve heard.” He looked away like there was something very interesting on the other side of the cafeteria.

Sam shook the bangs out of his eyes and decided to ignore it.

They dumped the remaining contents of their lunches into the trash and headed down the hallway. Sam looked to his right, wondering when he’d gotten so tall. Cas looked so small in comparison, especially wearing the huge trench coat today. His fingers barely peeked out from under the khaki linen. Clusters of students around them chattered as they passed, brief smears of sound that bounced off their little bubble. Sam dropped his hand from the strap on his bag, swinging it as he walked. As they turned the corner, he felt electricity crawl up his fingers as Castiel’s hand brushed his. Sam looked up in surprise as Cas stopped walking.

“When are you going to get the tickets?” He asked, studying his shoelaces.

Sam didn’t mention the leftover static in his fingers. He curled them into his palm and shrugged. “I don’t know. Tomorrow?”

“That sounds good.” Cas didn’t make a move toward his Calculus class and stepped aside for a small blonde to go through the door. “Thank you, Sam.” He set his jaw like he’d made a decision and darted forward to wrap his arms around Sam’s waist, hesitant to squeeze until Sam returned the gesture. He wondered if Cas could feel his heart, beating out arrhythmic Morse against his cheek. They stood like that for a lingering moment before Sam sensed the tendrils of doubt and patted Castiel twice on the back. He cursed himself for it as they pulled apart, but it was the only way he knew how to end a hug – an embrace. Like a football player frightened for his reputation. Appalling.

Cas didn’t seem disappointed. He opened the door with a bright, “See you later,” and disappeared inside. It clicked shut behind him. Sam stared at the door for a moment, unsure how to proceed until the shrill bell jerked him out of his head and set him trotting towards class.

*

It felt like lying. Probably because it was lying. “Sam, don’t be a big baby about it. I’ll just eat an entire roasted turkey leg in three bites, and then he’ll be all yours.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows at his younger brother as he slipped into his sneakers.

“I’m not concerned that it won’t work, I’m concerned that it’s manipulative and sort of shitty,” Sam stared at the two tickets on the table. Dean waved like he could swat away Sam’s worries. His hand froze in the air as someone knocked at the door.

The brothers looked at each other, one panicked and one smug. “That’s Cas,” they said in unison. Dean got up to get the door, but thought better of it, pausing dramatically to smooth out his jeans. Sam took a deep breath and opened the door.

Cas looked good. It was an alarming pattern cropping up, all the band shirts that he found in order to pose in them inside the Winchesters’ doorstep,  but Sam was beginning to get used to it. The ones that fit were going to be a completely different adjustment. It was Def Leppard today, and it had to be a size too small because Sam was quickly coming to the realization that Cas had a waist like a wasp and it was nigh impossible to keep his eyes directed elsewhere.

“Hello,” he cleared his throat and looked around. “Ready to go?”

“Actually,” Sam ventured quietly. “We uh, had a little hiccup and a change of plans.”

Cas looked down and saw that he wasn’t wearing any shoes. “What happened? Did you not get the tickets? That’s okay; we can do something else.”

Dean sighed as he took a step forward and slung an arm around Cas’ shoulder, knocking him off balance. “That’s the issue, buddy. Sam here only bought two tickets, so it looks like it’s gonna be me and you today. We’ll go to all the food booths, and go on all the rides, and – ”

“Where are you going to go?” Cas cut off Dean to ask Sam accusingly. Sam cringed. He wasn’t going to like this.

“I just figured, you know, I could hang out with Ruby or something today, since I’ve been to the fair so many times, and Dean loves it and I figured that you’d want to go with someone who has a real passion your first time…” He trailed off as Castiel shook his head vehemently.

“No.”

Both brothers gaped at him. This wasn’t part of their plan at all. “No?”

“No. My apologies, Dean. But I really – would rather wait until tomorrow. We can get three tickets, then.” He looked from face to face, confused about their lack of sudden and enthusiastic agreement.

Dean scuffed at the carpet with the toe of his shoe. “Uh, actually – Benny’s getting back from his grandparents’ earlier than planned. So tomorrow I was gonna go again, but just with him.”

Cas did not look impressed. Sam raised a hand to get his attention. “Hey, could I uh – talk to you for a minute? Over in my room?” As they passed Dean he sighed loudly and made a point to look at his watch. Sam would really have to congratulate him on how obnoxious he was being – but later.

They stepped inside Sam’s room and began to speak at the same time before Cas motioned to let Sam talk first.

“I thought the plan was to get you alone with Dean?” Sam leaned forward with upturned hands. “I thought you’d be excited I only got the two tickets.”

Cas huffed out an exasperated breath. “I – suppose. But won’t it be suspicious? And he’ll know! Then it will all be for naught and we’ll have to stop all this.” He tilted his head to the side, and Sam cut in before he could amend his word choice.

“But what do we do with the tickets we have now?”

“Give them to Dean? He has plenty of friends.” Cas’ eyes flicked to the door and back again. “And then you don’t have to go see Ruby. Unless you want to, I suppose.” His attempt at nonchalance failed and the tug on Sam’s heart blended with slightly sadistic delight.

Sam’s door echoed as Dean knocked on the other side. “Well? Are we going or not?”

Cas reached forward and opened the door. Sam smirked as Dean tumbled in, just barely catching his balance. “Uh – Cas figured, if you wanted to go twice, you could have the tickets today and we’ll just – hang out here.” Dean scrunched up one side of his mouth.

“What? Dude, all my friends already have plans.” He sighed with the air of a long-suffering mother. “And I’ll get judged if I go and eat an entire funnel cake by myself.” He inspected his fingernails and slowly suggested, “Well – there’s no point in wasting the tickets, right? How important are your plans with Ruby?”

“Well – ”

“Not at all? Great.” Dean grinned like he’d won a year’s supply of outdated cassettes. “Then why don’t the two of you go together?” He stepped around them and gently pushed at their backs, herding them out the door. “A nice couple like yourselves oughta love the fair! There’s rides and games and cotton candy and lots of adorable photo opportunities.”

As he steered them past the kitchen table he yanked the tickets off the smooth surface and presented them to Cas with a flourish. “So have fun!”

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Cas grabbed his wrist with one hand and took the tickets with the other. “Thank you, Dean. We will.” He smiled and gave a short wave before leading Sam outside with a firm click. As they passed by the front window, Sam looked back to see Dean dusting off his hands with the smuggest expression he’d ever worn, which was really rather impressive.

Uriel’s Continental sat on the side of the street, windows barely cracked in the muggy autumn heat. Before Cas could make his way to the driver’s seat, Sam caught his arm. “Cas – do you actually wanna go, just with me?”

“Of course, Sam. We are friends,” he frowned, unsure if he was missing something.

“Right.” Sam’s hand hovered over the handle for a minute until Cas unlocked it. He seated himself, body tense as he awaited the cacophony blasting from the radio. But as Cas started the engine, nothing happened. Sam raised an eyebrow and Cas peered to his right with a sly smile.

“I told my brother that it was embarrassing when I was going on a date.”

Sam’s mouth dropped open in shock. “That _worked_? If I complained to Dean about Metallica in the Impala and used that as an excuse, he’d rig it so that it was the only tape that would ever play, and turning the music down would shut off the engine. What did he say?”

Cas checked his mirrors and absent-mindedly recounted their conversation. “He said with whom, and I said Sam Winchester, and he said ‘that tall kid?’ and I said yeah, and he said ‘size really does matter, huh,’ and I said what, and he said – ”

“I get the picture,” Sam finished, blushing furiously.

“Yes, well. He said he was glad that I was going out and doing ‘normal teenager things’,” Cas said, using one hand for finger quotes. “And then I asked what that was supposed to mean, and he said ‘you know, getting some,’ and I said – ”

“Still getting the picture.” Sam said flatly.

“Oh,” Cas shrugged. “Well, the short version, is I got him to let me not only turn down his horrendous speakers, but put in a new CD.” As he said it, he reached over to the stereo and pressed the power button. The car filled with soft strumming that Sam vaguely recognized.

“Do I know this song?”

Cas nodded, eyes on the road. “Yes. Sort of. It’s that song we played in band the year we first met.”

It was slower than the version they’d played, but Sam could remember where he’d been at every line. “Sounds a lot different without the trumpets in the background, doesn’t it?” He joked. Cas laughed in response, but they stayed mostly quiet to listen to the words and the gentle voice crooning them.

As the song died away, Sam watched Cas grip the steering wheel nervously. The CD clicked to track two and extremely familiar chords started. Sam couldn’t help laughing at Cas’ distress. “Coldplay?”

“I like them,” Cas muttered as he went pink under his sunglasses.

Sam patted his sleeve reassuringly, even as he laughed. “I do too, I’m not gonna tease you. I just thought it was going to be something terrible. Quit worrying about people judging you for stuff – who cares?”

Cas glared at him for a moment before Sam looked up at the clouds and exhaled. “Wanna know a secret?” He barreled on before Cas could answer. “I kinda like Nickelback.”

Any worries he’d had about divulging that well-kept secret vanished as Cas broke into a grin. “Really?”

“Yeah. Don’t tell anyone! And I mean, I get why people hate on them, basically all their music is the exact same song, but – ”

“ – it’s a good song!” Cas chimed in with a little laugh. “I – I kinda know what you mean.” He wrinkled his nose like it was distasteful to admit it. “Don’t tell anyone, either.”

Never had Nickelback created such strong feelings of affection in a human. Sam watched Cas shake his head in embarrassment, sunbeams floating across his face as the car cruised through traffic. He worried at his pink bottom lip in spite of himself, although when he noticed Sam staring at him he stopped. “What?”

“Nothing,” Sam shook his head. “I just – do you have an auxiliary cord? For my iPod.”

Cas pointed at the glove box and said, “I thought you liked Coldplay?”

“Yeah, I do, but – okay, hold on a second.”

He plugged in the cord and carefully selected a song, turning so that he could watch Cas’ reaction.

_“Never made it as a wise man,”_

Cas groaned and reached for the volume but Sam swatted his hand away.

_“Couldn’t cut it as a poor man stealin’,”_

He set his hand back on the wheel with a sigh, but was having a difficult time hiding the smile playing across his lips. Sam counted it as a win and began to slowly crank down his window.

_“Tired of living like a blind man – I’m sick of sight without a sense of feeling,”_

“Sam, someone is going to hear this and recognize Uriel’s car and ask him why he was playing _Nickelback_ and then he’s going to murder me.”

_“This is how, you remind me – this is how you remind me of what I really am, this is how you remind me of what I really am,”_

Both boys turned to each other at the same moment, pantomiming microphones. “It’s not like you to say sorry! I was waiting on a different story! This time I’m mistaken – for handing you a heart worth breaking!” They punctuated the words with short bouts of head banging and excruciatingly bad acting. Sam placed his hand on his heart and pretended to rip it in two, and Cas could barely get out the words for how hard he was laughing.

They coasted to a stop at a light, and Sam glanced to the side to see a couple in a VW Beetle with open windows and open expressions of disdain as their car’s music drifted across the lanes. He reached to turn it down but Cas grabbed his hand and shook his head. Together, they turned it up instead.

All the cars at the intersection looked around to see where the sudden influx of Nickelback had come from and Sam fought the impulse to sink down into his seat. He turned to Cas and flashed his teeth as they sang, _“Are we having fun yet?”_

The light turned green and they dissolved into giggles as Cas sped ahead and the radio sang, _“Yeah, yeah, yeah,”_ until Cas looked at Sam with a serious expression. Sam’s smile dropped off his face and he paused the music.

Cas took a deep breath and said, “All joking aside, Sam – do you have Photograph?”

Sam wheezed as he tried to recover from the sudden burst of laughter. Castiel looked very pleased with himself, but soon was just as compromised – it was the next song on the playlist.

They sang along until about halfway through, when Cas turned to Sam with a horrified expression. “If our song turns out to be Nickelback, we’re lying to our friends.” Sam agreed, singing another verse before even realizing what Castiel had said. As they screeched out the windows, he thought to himself that it would be worth years of public ridicule to have Cas say that to anyone – ‘this is our song’. ‘Our’. The idea felt like waking up and realizing someone had made pancakes. It transcended everything else – even Nickelback.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where this came from, either. Being three days late on my deadline, a little bit sick, and struck by some bizarre Canadian rock-alt muse? (I mean, it's not like they're doing anything else.)
> 
> (And if you don't know those two songs, I'm surprised, suspicious you're lying, and a little ashamed. I think everyone has a secret soft spot for Nickelback, but it's just too cool to hate them now. This is a safe place.)


	6. on a get well card

They handed their tickets to a bored teen with acne scattered across his face. Cas leaned in as he stamped the back of their hands and said, “I’ve never been to the fair before.” The ticket taker sighed and waved them through the gate. Sam pursed his lips in annoyance, but Cas pointed down the main road and tugged at his sleeve, mouthing, “Funnel cake!”

The line was incredibly long. It stretched down the road and then doubled in on itself, full of annoyed mothers and crying children. Sam looked down at his watch and then at the sky. “Do you wanna get it now – which is fine – or wait until after we go on a couple rides? The line will be shorter then, probably.”

Cas paused to consider his options. “And we’ll be less likely to throw up all the food we paid exorbitant amounts of money to eat.”

“Yeah, plus that.” Sam squinted at the prices on the board. “I mean, it’s up to you, since it is your first time here. We’ll do the full experience – rigged games and all.” He nodded down the way at the ring toss, complete with giant and effectively unwinnable prizes swaying in the wind.

“Rigged?” Cas frowned as he peered down the aisle. “How do you know?”

Sam shrugged and gestured with his shoulder to follow. “It’s kind of just a fact of life. Everyone knows they’re rigged, but they play anyway. It’s not super expensive. And you can win – it’s just difficult. The milk bottles are weighted, the basketball hoop is actually an oval so it won’t spiral in, stuff like that.” He pointed at each game as he mentioned them and Cas listened in interest.

“What about the shooting range?” He asked, casually as possible.

Sam looked at the pretty girl in plaid leaning against a row of wooden ducks, faded targets slowly moving past. She readjusted her cowboy hat and then fluffed up the stuffed animals sitting against the back wall, including a giant smiling whale. As they walked in front of the game, Sam slowed, figuring angles in his head. All the targets were elongated and then slanted – from the front they looked easy to hit, but it was obvious that only a deadeye could hit enough to win anything.

He reached into his pocket and dumped out a handful of change. Cas took an extra step before realizing he’d stopped. “What are you doing? I thought they were all rigged?”

“They are. Doesn’t mean you can’t win.” He flashed Cas a grin as the girl in charge handed him an air rifle and recited the rules.

“You’re a foolish man, Sam Winchester,” Cas shook his head. “You’re going to lose all your money. And then you’ll have to beg funnel cake off me, and quite frankly I don’t know that I’m willing to share.” He watched with interest as Sam picked up the gun and got a feel for its weight. “Have you ever even shot a gun before?”

The targets whirred to life and out-of-tune music began to roll. Sam exhaled, shook his bangs out of his eyes, and shot three ducks in a row. They bent backwards with sad quacks.

“Yeah,” The lanky teenager checked with the attendant and gently pulled the whale off its hook. “I have.” He presented the stuffed animal to Cas with a short bow, who held it close to his heart.

“Are you sure?” He asked, studying the whale’s glass eyes. Sam nodded, and Cas lit up like a string of fluorescent bulbs. He hugged it even closer.

“Who taught you how to do that?” Cas asked as they made their way back to the car. “It was incredible. You could be a police officer. Or a professional sharpshooter, like Annie Oakley.” Sam snorted and Cas looked up with wide eyes. “I mean it. That sort of thing takes real talent, Sam.”

“Thank you,” Sam smiled down at his sneakers. “My dad taught me – before he died.” Cas was silent as he looked for the right words. “It was something he actually liked doing more than I did – but I was good at it, so we didn’t argue. We were just ripping holes in soda cans, but he would tell me I was a good kid, after.” He kicked at a pebble on the dirt road. “They’re not bad memories.”

Cas handed the whale to Sam as he went to unlock the back door. “Do you ever wish you’d been closer?” He set it in the middle of the bench and carefully buckled it into the seatbelt.

“Nah,” Sam shut the door with a decisive click. “He was an asshole.”

*

The boy at the gate didn’t even bother checking their stamped hands. Cas grumbled about the lack of security as Sam tried to find the funnel cake stand by smell alone. After four wrong turns they finally found the slightly shorter line of hungry fairgoers and added themselves to the back of it, behind a pair of girls holding hands.

“Do you want powdered sugar or cinnamon on yours?” Sam asked as they watched a family with two squirrely daughters seat themselves at a nearby picnic area.

Cas hummed as he tried to make a decision. “What are you getting?”

“Cinnamon sugar, for sure.” They took a few steps forward as a young couple walked away, cradling paper plates.

The redheaded girl in front of them turned around with a sly smile. “Then you oughta get the other one and snitch off his, huh?”

Both boys gaped for a moment before Sam recovered. “Charlie! Wow, hi! I didn’t realize that was you – who’s your friend?”

The other girl smiled and extended a hand. “Dorothy. I volunteer with Charlie.” They exchanged meaningful glances.

“Castiel,” Cas gave her hand a strong pump and then laced his fingers around Sam’s. “And this is Sam.” He looked at Sam the same way the girls had.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Sam supplied helpfully, nudging Cas’ attention back. “Cas has never been to the fair, so.”

Charlie opened her mouth in surprise. “Really? That’s wild. Good place for a date, isn’t it?” She bumped Dorothy’s hip and giggled when she nudged back.

The line in front of them had emptied while they were talking, and Charlie dug in her purse to find her wallet. By the time she’d found it, Dorothy was already ordering for them. Charlie huffed in indignation as she turned to the boys. “It was my turn to pay,” she groused. “Women, am I right?”

Cas blinked. “I suppose I wouldn’t know.”

She laughed, her ponytail shaking with the sudden movement. “Yeah, I guess not.” She looked at Sam fondly. “This one’s a keeper.” Dorothy returned with the two funnel cakes and a little smile. Charlie gasped as she took her plate. “You sprang for the strawberries? You’re beautiful.” She leaned over and kissed her nose.

They started down the northern path before Charlie turned back and pointed in Cas’ direction. “And hey, Castiel, you be careful with that Winchester.” She winked at him. “They’re precious cargo.” She linked arms with Dorothy and offered a bite of her funnel cake.

“They’re a cute couple,” Sam remarked.

Cas nodded. “But more importantly, Charlie had a very good point.” He laid a crumpled wad of bills on the kiosk counter. “We would like two funnel cakes: one with powdered sugar, one with cinnamon sugar.” The man counted out his change and went to shake out the cakes.

As Cas put the coins back into his wallet one-handed, Sam coughed a little. “Cas, we probably don’t have to hold hands anymore.”

“Oh.” Cas looked down at their joined hands a little forlornly and didn’t let go.

It was like Sam’s chest had filled with helium. “Unless there’s more people we know,” he suggested. “Then we would – we would have to just start again, anyway.”

“Yes,” Cas agreed. His lips twitched as he struggled not to smile too widely. “It’s probably more efficient to just – to just keep holding hands.”

“Yeah, it probably is.” They shared a shy smile and then stared down at their shoes until their funnel cakes arrived. The man shook his head and smiled at the pair before sticking an extra fork in each plate. They thanked him and headed down the opposite path.

The ferris wheel loomed above the small table they picked. Sam grunted as he tried to fold his legs under the tiny slat of wood. Cas smirked and slid in with only a little effort, although it was still snug. He broke off a piece of funnel cake and chewed it thoughtfully. As Sam struggled, Cas reached over and stole a bite of his.

“Yours is better,” he announced.

Sam sighed, one leg on each side of the bench. “Do you want to switch?”

Cas shook his head, but reached for another bite. “I think it’s better because it’s not mine. Do you need some help?”

Sam pulled his plate away from his date with a mock scowl. “I haven’t even gotten one bite yet! And I’m almost positive we’re sitting at a kids’ table.”

Cas raised his eyebrows at Sam’s protective gesture. “Well, you are acting like a child.”

“Am not!” Sam protested before he could stop himself.

“You can’t even share!” Cas tutted regretfully. “I’ll have to bring that up in parent-teacher conferences, young man.”

“Shut up,” Sam stuck out his tongue and gave up on the bench, leaving both his legs stretched out along its length. “You’d be a good kindergarten teacher, actually.”

Cas made a face. “I’d be terrible. Kids aren’t particularly fond of me.” He frowned into his funnel cake.

“What?” Sam pushed his plate back into the center of the table as he chewed. “That’s not true. Remember when we went to help the band teacher do auditions for fourth graders? They loved you.”

“They loved squeaking the clarinet,” Cas corrected. He twirled the fork like he was eating spaghetti. “You may not have noticed – but sometimes I have a difficult time emoting. I read that it’s very important for adults who work with children.” He shrugged like it didn’t matter, but bit at the inside of his lip.

Sam looked down at his plate before dipping his thumb into the pile of powdered sugar at the bottom and reaching across to smear it on Cas’ nose. He dropped his fork with a little shout and his forehead creased.

“What was - ?” Cas started before Sam began to laugh.

“You look pretty emotive to me,” he teased. Cas pressed his lips into a thin line and reached into the powdered sugar before Sam could stop him.

“Wait, don’t!” Sam shielded his face with his hands and squeezed his eyes shut. But it was no use. Cas pressed his entire palm to Sam’s face, leaving a white handprint over his nose and lips. They stared at each other for a long moment before they burst into laughter, diving for the funnel cake.

Cas had been right; their fight was suited for the kids’ table. The entire cake was wasted, bits and pieces in both their hair and in Sam’s hoodie. It was a mess. Sam had never been happier.

“Where’s the bathroom?” Cas finally asked, once their stomachs stopped hurting from the laughter. Sam shrugged.

“Does it matter?”

They agreed it didn’t – not really. Cas brushed the powdered sugar out of his hair and so did Sam, shaking their heads and ruffling hair. They finished the second funnel cake like civilized folk and disposed of the plate in the proper trash receptacle.

“Race you to the ferris wheel?” Cas turned, ready to agree, but Sam had already started running. Cas swore and followed along, sprinting throughout the sparse crowd.

He skidded to a stop behind Sam, who was leaning on the metal fence in front of the ferris wheel and pretending not to be out of breath. “What took you so long, shortstop?”

“You cheated.” Cas said flatly, leaning over and breathing from his diaphragm. “Like a cheater.”

Sam laughed and grabbed his hand, leading him into the tiny metal carriage. Ferris wheels were always so much prettier on postcards, he mused as the attendant shut the door behind them. The machine shuddered into the air and they watched out the sides as they lifted. The compartment swayed and creaked in the slight breeze every time someone got into a new seat.

Cas looked out across the landscape with wide eyes, like he’d never seen quite how flat Kansas was. The ferris wheel climbed higher and higher until it finally stopped with a metallic screech. Cas looked at Sam in alarm and grabbed his hand.

“It’s okay; they all sound like that,” Sam reassured. “It’s gonna start any second.”

There was a squeal from the ground before the attendant spoke into the intercom, embarrassed. “Uh, there’s been a bit of a technical difficulty. But we’ll get it fixed right away – wait one minute.”

Cas opened his mouth in disbelief and glared at Sam. “What.”

“Okay, well.” Sam raised his other hand in apology. “At least we’re not that high up.”

Cas sniffed. “I’m not afraid of heights.”

Sam raised their locked fingers as evidence. Cas’ knuckles were white at the joints, and Sam’s hand was beginning to lose circulation. Cas sat up a little straighter. “I’m just afraid of falling.”

“I promise I won’t let you fall.” Sam squeezed his hand and Cas relaxed a little.

“What if we both do?”

Sam shrugged. “You can use my body as a cushion?”

Cas thought about it for a moment. “I suppose that’s acceptable.” He let go of Sam’s hand and leaned on his fist as he looked out at the sun again. “It is pretty.”

“Kansas?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“No, just – being up here. It’s like being in a postcard. A boring postcard,” he amended. “But still. I don’t really hate Kansas – not like most of the people at school.”

“There’s no place like home,” Sam murmured. Cas nodded before turning to him earnestly.

“What do you want to do?”

Sam tilted his head in confusion. “What?”

“In life. Are you going to leave? Do you still want to do law school?”

“Oh.” Sam looked up through the metal grating. “I don’t know. Probably, yeah. When you don’t grow up with any money, financial security’s kind of big on the checklist. It sounds shallow, but.” He shrugged as Cas shook his head.

“I don’t think that’s shallow. It makes sense. Capitalism,” he said sagely. Sam huffed out a little laugh.

“What about you? Do you – do you wanna work with kids?” It occurred to him that he had never asked. He was taking music and Latin and Spanish in school, but none of his extracurriculars really lent themselves to a career choice. Sam felt a twinge of guilt for not knowing.

Cas shrugged, toeing at one of his shoes. “Yes. I don’t know.” He sighed with the air of someone who’d looked at every angle of an undecidable situation. “I just don’t think I’d do very well, and I wouldn’t want to impact their later success in life because I was a poor role model.”

“Cas,” Sam reached over and took his hand again. “I think that if you’re worried about hypothetical children’s future success, you’re probably a great candidate to deal with them.” He waited as Cas processed his words. “There are so many teachers and care workers and even foster parents who don’t give a shit about the kids they’re supposed to be nurturing – honestly, the field could probably use a few more people like you. You gotta stop worrying so much about what other people think.”

“I – I had never thought of it like that.” Cas admitted. Sam’s stomach fluttered as they locked eyes. “Thank you, Sam.” He laid his second hand on top of Sam’s and gave him a little smile.

They sat like that for a moment before Sam noticed the speck of powdered sugar at the corner of Cas’ lips. He raised his hand without thinking, and Cas drew back, concerned.

“No, you just – you have a little – ” Sam gestured to his mouth and Cas wiped at the other side. “No, you – hold on.” He reached across, resting his hand on Cas’ cheek. His heart sped up as he brushed the sugar away, lingering on his soft skin. Cas didn’t move away, but leaned into Sam’s hand. Sam opened his mouth, but no words came to mind.

“Did you get it?” Cas asked quietly. Sam nodded, afraid to puncture the moment. The air in the carriage felt electric.

Cas took a deep breath and whispered, “Are you sure?”

There was no doubt in Sam’s mind. His heart leapt up into his throat and he leaned forward. His eyes slid shut as everything inside him screamed, “This is it! This is it!”

The ferris wheel stuttered to life, knocking them off balance. Sam’s hand slipped as he tried not to fall and Cas reached for the handle inside the door in a slight panic. The tinny fairground music started up in the overhead speakers and the carriage began swaying back and forth again as started to spin around the wheel. They looked at each other before facing away, cheeks burning red. The carriage passed the attendant on the ground, who gave them an enthusiastic thumbs up.

They made half a rotation before Cas spoke up, “Uh, thanks. For getting the – yeah.”

“Yeah, no – no problem.” Sam stared down at his lap until the curiosity threatened to burn him from the inside out. “Cas, was that – ?”

“What?” Cas asked, expression blank. “Powdered sugar? Probably.”

“Powdered sugar,” Sam repeated. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s what I thought. Good.”

“Good,” Cas repeated.

They spent the rest of the ride in uncomfortable silence, their hands to themselves.

*

As soon as they got off the ride, Cas suggested maybe they ought to go home. Sam’s heart sank, but he agreed. The sun was beginning to go down, after all, and they had a while to drive before they got back to Lawrence. They got into the car at the same time and cracked the windows. Cas looked in the rearview mirror before pulling out and locked eyes with the stuffed whale in the backseat.

“Sam – thank you.” He almost looked nervous, fidgeting with the gearshift. “Today was a lot of fun. I wouldn’t have wanted to go with anyone else.” He took a deep breath and quickly said, “You’re my best friend.”

It occurred to Sam that he could lay his hand on Cas’, right on the gearshift. Maybe it would have set them into reverse. But that wasn’t what Cas wanted. He smiled and held onto his iPod with both hands. “And you’re mine.” The words felt like chewing concrete. “But we’re listening to something other than Nickelback on the way home.”

Cas laughed, and he looked surprised to find that it was genuine. “Do you have Lady Gaga?”

“Absolutely not.” Sam lied as he scrolled through the artists.

They pulled out of the dirt to the dulcet tones, speakers pumping through the parking lot. Sam mouthed along to the words as he stared out the window at the flatness around them. It would take the sun a while to disappear behind the horizon. It all stretched on for miles and miles, a desolate wasteland set to Bad Romance.

The irony did not escape him.


	7. it was always you

“It’s really not funny,” Sam grumbled.

Dean disagreed, bent double in exaggerated laughter. “You do know that was the signal, right?” He managed through his tears, wiping at his eyes.

Sam threw his hands in the air. “Of course I know! That’s why I went for it! It’s not my fault that the ferris wheel had to come back on at that exact second.” He flopped backwards onto the couch with a drawn-out sigh. “Something in the universe really hates me.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Dean straightened up and pulled at his shirt. “You for sure know he’s interested in you now. Looks like something in the universe is just giving you a hard time.” He set his jaw and picked at a scab on his knuckle, his laughter dying away. He changed the channel on the remote control with more force than necessary.

“I guess,” Sam allowed.

“None of that guessing bullshit. You know,” Dean pointed at him with the remote. “You know he likes you and you shouldn’t take that shit for granted. Now you just have to get him to admit it – and since he had a fucking tickle fight with you like a couple of preteens at a slumber party, I don’t think it’ll be too hard. What did I tell you? You’re irresistible, Sammy.”

Sam drew his knees to his chest, hiding his smile. “Thanks.”

“Any time.”

They sank back into the cushions and watched the movie on TV for a while. It was terrible; bad effects and worse dialogue, but it was familiar as one of Dean’s favorites. As the monster knocked over a building, Sam turned to his brother, but Dean had his phone in his hand and fingers poised over the keys like he couldn’t decide what to write.

“Dean?”

The man onscreen screamed before being flattened. Dean pointed at the screen without looking up. “What? You’re gonna miss the best part.”

Sam sighed before wresting the remote from Dean and turning down the volume.

“Hey!”

“Yeah, I’ll turn it back up when you tell me what’s going on. You’re being weird. Is that Benny?” He started to reach for the phone and Dean kicked at his knees.

“Dude, go away. Yeah, it’s Benny. We’re just talking, mind your own beeswax.”

“Is it inappropriate?” Sam teased.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Sam. We’re talking about my huge, giant dick. He’s concerned that maybe I should get it checked out because it’s the biggest dick he’s ever seen. It’s like Godzilla dick. Turn the TV back on.”

“Gross, Dean.” Sam gagged. “If you’ve got a Godzilla dick you probably should get that checked out, actually. I mean … that can’t be good. Medically speaking.”

“Shut up.” Dean threw a pillow at his head. “I said it was none of your business.”

Sam went to turn up the sound, but stopped at something in Dean’s voice. “Yeah, I know. But – are you guys okay?”

The pause was too long. Dean swore and set down the phone. “I mean, yeah. I just – what is that noise?”

As soon as Dean had started talking, Sam’s pocket started to buzz. He waved it away as nothing, but Dean’s smile crept onto his face and he leaned forward conspiratorially. “Is that your boyfriend?”

“No, tell me about Benny.” Sam insisted but Dean shook his head and crossed his arms.

“Answer your phone. We wouldn’t want a repeat of last time, when he thought you’d been robbed by a seventeen year old girl.” Dean snatched the remote back and turned the sound up louder than it had been previously.

Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket and stared at it in a moment of indecision. Dean’s eyes darted to Cas’ name on the screen and he grinned. “Answer it.”

“Promise to tell me?” Sam asked, thumb above the call button. At Dean’s long-suffering nod, he pressed down and stood up.

“Hey, Cas, what’s up?” He put his fingers into a V, touched them to his eyes and then pointed them at his brother. Dean ignored him and turned the movie up louder. Sam had no choice but to retreat to his bedroom. “Hold on, I gotta – Dean’s got a movie going really loudly, give me a sec.”

Dean shouted, “Hey, Cas!” over the back of the couch, making grotesque kissing noises as Sam walked away.

“Sorry,” Sam apologized as he shut his door behind him. “He was just – being stupid. How are you?”

The phone crackled as Cas took a drink of something. “I’m well. Thank you again for taking me to the fair. It was a valuable experience.”

Sam wiggled his toes inside his socks as he bounced on the edge of the bed. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you had fun.”

“But,” Cas started and Sam refused to be disheartened. ‘But’ could mean anything. “I think that we both got a little distracted from our ultimate goal.” Sam imagined him nodding shortly on the other end of the line, sitting at his bedroom desk like a professor setting deadlines. “And that’s my fault. I should have gone with Dean like you suggested, but got caught up in – anyway. I am proposing that the three of us go to a movie in town tomorrow. Or tonight, if you aren’t tired of me.”

“Never tired of you, Cas,” Sam mumbled. “I’ll ask Dean if he’s got plans.”

“Thank you. Do you know if there’s anything playing with a lot of explosions? Dean seems like he would like explosions.”

A hot wave of jealousy hit Sam unlike anything he’d experienced thus far in their entire façade. “Do you like explosions, Cas?”

The silence on the other line indicated that he did not. Sam took a deep breath and counted to five. “Why don’t we see a movie you’d like?” Cas made a noise of uncertainty and Sam decided to tackle it from a different angle. “Otherwise Dean would be suspicious. Alternatively, you’d be forced to watch explosion movies with him the entire time you two were together.” He gritted his teeth on the last word.

“You’re right,” Cas said. “On the first point. Isn’t that really what relationships are? Enduring what someone else enjoys for their sake?”

Sam frowned and switched the ear his phone laid against. “No, not really. Relationships are a lot more mutual than that. Healthy ones, at least.”

“Hm.” It sounded like he disagreed, but Cas didn’t push the issue. “What is currently in theatres?”

*

Dean had vacated the living room. Sam leaned down and turned off the television before heading down the hallway to his room. The door was ajar, and Dean sat against his bed bouncing a superball off the his dresser. Sam rapped his knuckles on the doorframe until Dean stopped and called out an invitation.

“Yeah, come in.” He resumed throwing the ball. Sam slipped inside and sat cross-legged next to him. “What’d Cas want?”

“He said - he wanted to know if you’d like to come to a movie with the two of us.” He stared ahead at the Hendrix poster tacked crookedly on the wall. “We’re going tonight.”

Dean snorted. “What, does he think you need a chaperone, now that you’re all kissy-kissy?”

“Not quite,” Sam reached out and caught the tiny red ball. He set it off to the side. “He called to let me know that we need to refocus on how we’re going to get you two together.” He kept his face completely void of emotion, but his voice died out toward the end and he had to clear his throat.

“Shit.” Dean scratched at his neck with a sigh. “Do you want me to just tell him I’m not interested?”

Sam leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. “I dunno.  I don’t know if that will actually do anything, at this point. He’s got to know. Right? But yeah, yeah this is too fucked up. You should tell him.”

“Probably.” Dean looked down at his boots, thinking. “Or we could invite Benny to the movie and he and I could make out the entire time?”

Sam laughed and then frowned. “I thought he was out of town?” Dean froze, closing his eyes with a quiet swear. “Did you … lie?”

“Yeah, Sam, I lied to wingman you, don’t be a bitch.” He chided. “Benny’s in town he just - didn’t wanna hang out, or whatever.” He crossed his arms and stared at the same poster Sam had.

“Wait, what happened?” Sam turned to his brother and rolled the ball between his fingers. Dean snatched it out of his hand.

“Nothing. It’s stupid.”

“Dean.” Dean’s eyes flickered to the floor.

“He was going to go but then I ruined it, so.” At Sam’s silent urge to continue, he threw the ball against the wall again. It caught the edge of the poster and tore the corner away from the thumbtack. “Fuck. It was so stupid. I just said that it could be like, a double date, or whatever, and he freaked out and got mad.” He leaned forward and thumbed at the bottom of the poster. “Whatever,” he leaned back with a dull thump. “I don’t give a shit anyway.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because you seem kinda chewed up about it for not caring.” Dean shrugged, attempting indifference. “Look, I’d be upset too. And confused - I thought it seemed like he really liked you.”

“He does!” Dean exclaimed. He straightened up and gestured angrily. “He’s constantly saying how great I am and that he loves spending time with me and really likes me but just ‘isn’t ready’. What the hell is that? ‘Isn’t ready’, I call bullshit. He sure was ready to date Andrea.” He slammed his hand against his thigh, then rubbed at it with a wince. “It’s gotta be cause I’m a dude.”

“Really?” Sam gave him a skeptical look. “Benny doesn’t seem like that kinda guy to me.”

Dean pushed himself up from the ground. “Oh, so you’re a relationship expert now? How’s that going for you?”

“Dean-”

“Don’t.” Dean frowned and pointed at the door. “Get out. I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

Sam took a step back. “No.”

“I said, I don’t wanna talk about it anymore. Do you want me to go to your stupid movie or not?”

The front door banged open and then shut. Sam bit his lip as they listened to Bobby putter around in the kitchen. “Yeah, I do. But, look, you really should quit giving Benny such a hard time. I’m sure he just wants both of you to be happy.”

“Yeah, well.” Dean sniffed and opened his bedroom door. He gestured wildly for Sam to leave, but Bobby’s heavy footsteps sounded down the hall and both boys peered out.

His jacket was splattered with half-dry grease and he had yet to clean the smudges from his cheeks. His hands were clean, though, and he leaned on the doorframe casually, shifting his tired bones to a more comfortable position. “I’m glad you’re both here - I’ve got sumthin’ to talk to you about.”

“Sure, what’s up?” Sam slipped out into the hallway and leaned on the wall opposite.

“Remember Rufus?” Bobby scowled. “Sunuvabitch’s got himself into some shit again up in Omaha and asked me if I’d do him a favor and fix his transmission. I dunno what kinda roadkill he drove over this time, but I’m gonna stick around for a bit an’ make sure he ain’t drinkin’ again. After his wife - well.” He shook his head. “It shouldn’t be an issue. But I’m gonna be up there for a few days - can you boys handle bein’ alone for a while?”

Dean grinned and gave the superball an experimental bounce. “Depends - how long you gonna be gone? I mean, I just wanna make sure we have enough time to clear out all the drugs and porn stars.”

Bobby caught the ball on its second arc and scoffed. “Like you got any money to be buyin’ that kinda shit. I’m not sure how long, but more than three days. Less than a week, unless it’s completely fucked.” He quickly pressed his lips together. “Dammit. Don’t say that word.”

“Really?” Sam couldn’t quite stifle his laugh, and Dean didn’t even try. “Bobby, we go to public school.”

“Yeah, well what kinda parent would I be if I didn’t even pretend to give a shit?” Bobby asked with an eyebrow raised.

“A shit one,” Dean said solemnly.

Bobby shook his head in exasperation. “Thanks for the reassurance, smartass.”

Sam clapped his brother on the shoulder and draped his arm around him. “I promise we’ll be good. Nothing to worry about.”

“Right.” Bobby raised his hands in defeat. “I guess I’ll have to take that. Now do you punks want dinner, or am I gonna hafta eat all this tuna casserole by myself?”

Dean shot out of his room so fast Sam thought he might lose his balance and topple over. He pushed past his brother and tripped toward the kitchen. Bobby chuckled fondly and jerked his head to the table, motioning for Sam to follow.

They pressed in close to the porcelain dish as Bobby slopped big ladlefuls of casserole onto their plates. Dean flicked a pea across his plate. It ricocheted against the edge and landed next to Sam’s sleeve. He glared at his older brother and speared it with his fork.

Family dinner was usually a relatively silent occasion, excepting the extraordinarily poor table manners that the two boys exhibited. All three of them would scarf down their food and then chat for a while afterward. It wasn’t often that Bobby was home for supper at the same time they were - Sam and Dean usually wanted to make the most of that. He was tired and hadn’t scrubbed off all of the day’s grease quite yet, but he smiled and scooped out another serving of limp noodles. It squelched as it hit the plate.

“Sam, how’d yer project go? Didja get an A?”

“For Latin? Yeah, yeah we did.” Sam smiled down into his napkin and Dean coughed conspicuously.

Bobby ignored it and spoke around a mouthful of casserole. “Good. I was gonna be pissed if you stayed up ‘til the asscrack of dawn for no good reason.” He shook his head and took a sip of water. “That goddamn school is like a sweatshop.”

Dean took a drink and mumbled, the glass amplifying his voice. “Yeah, Sam wishes.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You wish it were a - a sweatshop, for sweating. With your Latin partner.” Dean tilted his head to one side and tried to untangle his words. “Together.” They looked at him without a speck of understanding in their expressions. Dean sighed. “Sexually?”

“Oh.” Bobby and Sam both went back to eating and Dean slumped a little lower in his seat.

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled to no one in particular. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was pretty bad,” Sam admonished.

Bobby nodded and wiped at his beard with a napkin. “Brings up a good question, though: who’s yer Latin partner?”

The smugness on Dean’s face was almost palpable. “Yeah, Sam, why don’cha tell us all about him?”

Bobby paused with his fork in the air. “Him? I thought you were dating that Ruby girl?” He narrowed his eyes and pointed the fork at Sam. “You ain’t cheatin’ on her, are ya?”

“No!” Sam exclaimed. “We broke up a while ago; I thought I told you.”

“Oh. Good. I was gonna say, that don’t sound like you.” He nodded to himself before freezing again. “Wait. Yer both datin’ boys now?”

Dean began to protest but Bobby waved off his explanations. “Yeah, yeah, I know you ain’t technically datin’, but yer datin’. And here I was hopin' you'd date a coupla nice, respectable ladies I didn't hafta worry about takin' advantage of ya."

Dean shrugged. "What fun is parenting if you don't have to be worried about the dangers of scruffy high school boys?"

“Christ,” Bobby muttered at the ceiling. “You two are a real handful, you know that?”

He scrubbed at his face with his hand and pushed away from the table. Sam stood up and grabbed his plate, stacking the three together and heading for the kitchen. Dean let out a small belch and beamed. “You love us.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bobby swatted at him across the table. “Help yer brother with the dishes.”

He made a face, but grabbed the porcelain casserole dish. Sam jostled him at the sink with his elbows, but rolled up his sleeves to start washing.

Bobby dumped the silverware into the sink and wet a dishrag. “So, whaddaya got going on tonight?”

Sam looked at Dean out of the corner of his eye, carefully keeping an expressionless face. Dean sighed. “We’re gonna go see a movie with Cas.” Sam couldn’t help himself; he thrust his soapy hands in the air with a yell of triumphance.

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Whatcha seein’?”

Dean opened his mouth to answer, but found he didn’t know. He looked at Sam questioningly, who bit his lip and lowered his hands.

“Uh - you already said you were gonna go, so no take-backs.”

The casserole dish slipped farther into the sink, punctuating Dean’s groan. “As long as it’s in English.”

*

“The one fucking thing I asked for,” Dean spilled popcorn as he slumped into his seat, “was for this fucking film to be in fucking English.” He readjusted his armrest and hit his elbow on the hard plastic. “Fuck. And what fucking language is this in?” The woman two seats ahead of them turned around reproachfully, her hand to her lips. He rolled his eyes. “Fucking French.”

Sam sighed and leaned forward to look at his brother. “Dean, quit being such a baby. This won like three Oscars. I haven’t seen a single negative review for it, and the cinematography looks incredible. Can you just give it a shot?”

Dean scoffed. “Were they American Oscars?”

There was a quiet cough from between them, and Cas looked down at his hands as he mumbled, “I’ve wanted to see it for a while, so I just… sorry. If you want, we can go sneak out to the Transformers movie? It just started, like five minutes ago.”

Dean closed his eyes and let out a long hiss of breath. “No, it’s fine. I’ll just feel bad, then.” He threw a piece of popcorn into his mouth and looked at the exit longingly.

“Then shut up,” Sam leaned back as the lights went down and the trailers began to play.

It was convenient that the movie had subtitles, but they could have understood it without them. The music swelled around the protagonist, curled on her side in bed as the camera tracked her tearstains. A woman crooned French words above the patter of rain, and the woman wept. Her lover stroked at her cheek, wiping away her tears and whispering soothing phrases into her neck. Their long hair coiled together between them and the woman smiled, laughing a little through her sadness.

Sam patted at the wetness gathering in the corners of his eyes self-consciously, stealing a look at Castiel. He was leaned forward in his seat, chin resting in his hands. The movie screen reflected in his watery eyes, and he shook his head a little bit and coughed. The rational part of Sam’s head reminded him that it didn’t mean anything, that a shared human emotion didn’t equal kindred spirits or some profound bond. He tried to ignore it.

The violins swelled again and then cut out. The two women touched their lips together slowly, chastely. Sam could not recall a more beautiful moment on-screen. The theater was bathed in a delicate silence. He knew without a doubt that everyone in the audience was experiencing the same fragile emotion, that this was an important moment.

Until Dean snored.

The woman two rows ahead of them turned around and hissed, _“Really?”_

Dean snorted himself back to consciousness and Cas pressed his lips together in annoyance. Sam tried to tamp down the sudden jolt of satisfaction, but just shook his head with a shrug.

 _“I’m sorry for my brother,”_ he hoped it said. _“He doesn’t belong here. He doesn’t belong with you. You don’t belong with him.”_

Castiel looked at Dean, who had settled back into the worn red fabric, eyes closed. He worried at his bottom lip and darted a glance at Sam. He lifted his arm into the air and let it over over Dean’s shoulder for a moment before dropping it back into his lap. Sam’s stomach threatened to empty its contents. They went back to watching the movie. There was an entire hour and forty-five minutes to go.

*

All three boys filed out of the theater a little dazed. Dean commented on his bathroom needs and strode off, leaving Sam and Cas outside on the bench without the keys. Cas wordlessly handed Sam a Kleenex, and they simultaneously blew their noses.

“That was so sad.” Sam crumpled the tissue in his hand.

“Yes. She should have stayed with Pamela.”

“Yes! I don’t get why she went back to that douchebag.” Sam sniffed.

Cas scuffed his toe against the carpet. “She was worried for their reputations. She wanted her love to be happy, even if it was without her, in the end.”

“Bullshit.” Sam shook his head, lips tight. “Love conquers all, watch some Disney. She was just making herself miserable because she thought she didn’t deserve her, or felt bad about herself, or something else. People who make martyrs of themselves usually have sort of twisted reasoning behind it, but there’s a clear explanation if you can cut through all the crap.”

Dean appeared from behind the white tile, wiping his wet hands on his jeans. “Alright, ladies, enough with the book club. Let’s get moving.” He didn’t wait for them to get up, just jingled the keys in his hand and walked towards the front doors.

They slowly got up from the bench, following in his wake. “I’m sorry about him,” Sam ventured. “He probably just shouldn’t have come to this one.”

Cas chuckled dryly. “It’s fine, Sam. Sometimes we have to make sacrifices for the people we love.”

The car was already blasting Metallica by the time they got there. Dean rapped his fingers on the window impatiently. They listened to him talk about French lesbians French kissing for maybe seven minutes before Cas finally snapped, “Did you even pay attention to the plot?”

“Was the plot something about two girls with tongues in each other’s mouths?” Dean looked in the rear view mirror with a frown.

“No.” Cas scowled.

“Then no.” He laughed to himself and attempted to high five his brother, who sank into his seat in embarrassment.

Cas bristled in the backseat. “Dean, tonight you were incredibly rude.”

Both Winchesters pricked up their ears at that. Sam turned all the way around and Dean almost stopped the car in surprise.

“I would like you to apologize.” Castiel folded his arms and Dean looked at his brother with some mix of admiration and shock.

“Well then.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Castiel. For snoring during your Oscar-winning lesbian flick.”

The frosty sigh from the back seat could have iced the windows. “No, Dean. Not just to me. To Sam. He wanted to see this movie just as much as I did and you made the experience significantly less enjoyable for both of us.”

Dean barked out a laugh. “Dude, what the fuck?”

“Apologize.”

“Sam, I am so, so sorry.” Dean’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “I know this movie was really important to you and without it you’ll probably go into foreign film withdrawal. It had to happen sooner or later. Let’s go cold turkey, yeah? We’ll watch the entire Saw series, my treat. As an apology!” He raised an eyebrow in the mirror and threw the car violently into park. “You ain’t the boss of me, kid. Get the fuck out of my car.”

Cas rolled his eyes and opened the car door with no ceremony. He gave a short wave to Sam as he rounded the car and stomped up the entryway into his house. A tall redheaded girl greeted him at the door and watched the Impala screech out of the driveway.

The brothers drove home quietly, Metallica scratching away between them. Dean parked and jerked his thumb at Sam, motioning for him to open the front door. As they toed their shoes off on the rug inside the living room, Sam opened his mouth but Dean put up his hand and shook his head.

“I don’t want to hear it. Your boyfriend doesn’t like me; I think this settles it. I don’t want to fucking philosophize over it anymore, okay?” He ducked into the kitchen and opened the cupboard, emerging with half a bottle of Jack and a chipped glass tumbler.

Sam frowned, his forehead creasing. “What are you gonna do with that?”

“Your boyfriend doesn’t like me, my boyfriend doesn’t like me, I had to watch a three hundred and sixty minute film with nothing in English - what the fuck do you think I’m gonna do with it?” He pulled a face and scooped up his boots before shutting himself in his room. Sam heard the lock click behind him.

The house seemed empty, although he knew Bobby was in the basement and Dean was mere feet away. Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked for an explanation for Cas’ behavior.

_No new messages._

He picked up his shoes from the entryway and went into his bedroom. The clock ticked, slower than he thought it really ought to be going. All the air in the room felt like it was half a chemical away from smothering him. His hands felt like they should be holding something, but his arms hung at his sides like dead weight.

His jeans crumpled to the ground as he stepped into flannel pajama pants and folded himself inside his blankets, wondering if Cas had been right about sacrifice.  

 

 


	8. falling for me

As teenagers went, Sam Winchester was not stupid. In fact, he was rather above average. He had gotten straight A’s on his last report card, even in his AP classes. He was in the running to be his year’s valedictorian. During free period he tutored seniors, for Christ’s sake. But there were some things that were simply beyond his comprehension. Castiel having an intense conversation with Benny Lafitte before eight o’clock was one of those things. They stood near the front entrance, Benny leaning against the wall and laughing. Cas looked pleased with himself, a little smile on his face in response to whatever he’d said.

Sam stood still, maybe thirty feet away. Cas hadn’t texted him at all last night, not even to make a comment about Dean’s abs. For someone who had done an awful lot of complaining about the way Dean stared at this guy, they seemed pretty chummy. Sam swallowed a frown and readjusted his backpack. Benny pulled a face at something Cas said and pointed toward his homeroom. He left with a friendly wave and Cas looked down at the carpet, half-smiling. Sam took that as his cue.

“Hey, Cas,” Sam called as he jogged over. Castiel looked up and broke into a grin.

“Sam.”

It was unfair, really, the color spreading to Sam’s cheeks as he listened to Cas say his name. Unfair and embarrassing. He tried to shake it off.

“Uh, how’s Benny?” He asked with a tilt of his head. “I didn’t know you two were, uh - friends?”

Cas shrugged and motioned for him to follow as students filed into the school. “He’s well. I’m quite fond of Benny, actually.” He hastened to add, “Out of context of his relationship with Dean, of course. I brought that up.”

Sam almost choked. “You brought up that you don’t like him dating Dean?”

Cas sighed in exasperation. “Just that I wondered how it was going, since Dean seemed upset that Benny didn’t want them to be officially dating. He said he just needed some time, which I said was completely understandable.” He stepped to the right and let a group of chatting freshmen pass. “He didn’t seem particularly keen on chatting about it with me, though.”

“It is sort of personal, so.”

“I suppose.” They made their way to a concrete bench inside the doors and set their backpacks down, leaning against the cold cement and waiting for the first bell to ring. “I just wish the two of them could be happy.”

Sam was surprised at how genuine that sounded. He opened his mouth and shook his head in disbelief. “What? I thought - ”

“That doesn’t mean I want them to be UNhappy. I just.” He shrugged. “You know.”

“Yeah.” Sam looked down at his feet and scuffed them against the floor. He did know. It was the mature way to feel, and certainly to act. If he actually cared about Cas he probably should be going about this differently. The idea pursed his lips.  _Maturity was stupid_ , he thought bitterly. But at this point, he was pretty sure he had no chance with Cas.

A tiny voice screamed in his head that this was a terrible plan, but Sam looked at the bags under Cas’ eyes and did what any friend would do. “Cas? Uh, you know, Dean’s about to give up on Benny, I think. He doesn’t feel - loved, or whatever.” He could feel a violent blush spreading across his cheeks and hurried on. “He might be - I dunno, uh, looking for a rebound.”

Cas frowned. “What?”

“A rebound.” The redness stretched all the way to Sam’s ears now.

“Like - like sex?” Cas raised an eyebrow.

“ _Yes,_ Cas, sex.” Sam looked up at the ceiling and sent a prayer to anyone who might be listening. “Isn’t that what you want?” He couldn’t stop the words’ sharp edge.

Cas was taken aback. He opened his mouth as he searched for the proper reply. “Doesn’t everyone?”

It wasn’t like he’d never heard it before. On the radio, in his own house - but out of Cas’ mouth it stung a lot more. “Yup.” He ground his teeth together and chuckled darkly. “Yep, that’s what everyone wants. Every single person on the planet; I’ll set that up for you right away.” He wasn’t being fair and he knew it, but Sam was all too suddenly aware of a hot and watery pressure in his eyes. This was definitely not the time for that. He shifted his backpack onto his left shoulder and took off for homeroom.

“Sam, wait,” Cas took a step in his direction. Sam turned the corner without looking back.

 

Lunch felt a little empty, sitting alone in an empty classroom doing homework. Sam tried to tell himself he didn’t care. He had briefly considered just sitting with Dean and Benny, but he didn’t know if they’d be sitting together either. It was like the entire world had been held up on thin, invisible strings and someone had come along and cut them all, sending the scenery crashing down. And if he was being completely honest, Sam had to admit that he was probably holding the scissors.

This whole scheme had been a mistake. It wasn’t healthy for either of them. Sam stared at his blank worksheet and resolved to tell Castiel everything. But as soon as he nodded his head, his stomach sank. What the hell was he supposed to say? _“Hey, this thing you’ve been talking about excessively for the last two weeks - I don’t want that at all, it makes me feel like I’m going to die, do you want to date me?”_   Ridiculous.

He scribbled in the margins of the worksheet with the ballpoint pen and wondered when the bell would ring.

 

Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel before pulling the car into park. “Sammy, you really like Cas, right?” Sam shrugged, looking at the crumbs on the mat. “Why would you say something like that to him?”

“I don’t know. I just got frustrated. This is all so stupid, Dean. I hate not talking to him. Just - it’s weird for me to be involved like this. I feel like - I mean,” he took a deep breath. “Just let him fuck who he wants, I suppose. And was I wrong about you looking for a rebound, too? It’s just sex.” He pursed his lips and unbuckled his seatbelt.

The car went quiet and Dean snagged his bag out of the backseat. He hurried in front of Sam with his long strides and stopped, frowning. “I wouldn’t ever do something like that to you. Even if you didn’t care, that’s pretty shitty. You think I’m that kinda guy?”

Sam sighed. “No, Dean.” He tried to make his way around his brother, but he blocked the sidewalk. “Can I go inside, now?”

Dean shook his head. “Not until you tell me what’s really going on here. I get that the whole situation isn’t working out like you wanted it to - it’s pretty crappy, honestly. But you’re usually pretty calm. Or at least wait until you get home to bitch about things that aren’t going your way. So.” He waved his hand in the air in a gesture of encouragement before sitting down on the front step and patting the cement beside him.

Sam looked up at the sky, but it held no answer. He set his jaw and sat down beside his brother with a soft thunk. He stared pointedly at the molting walnut tree in their front yard. The ugly green fruits were rotting on the ground and the whole driveway smelled pungent, like excessive potpourri.

It didn’t appear that Dean had a conversation opener prepared. He opened his mouth a few times, shutting it shortly after each. A bird trilled, somewhere in the neighborhood.

Finally Dean clapped his hands together. “How come you don’t just ask Cas out?” Hearing it from Dean somehow made it hurt more. Sam pulled at a lock of hair and ground his teeth.

“We aren’t compatible.”

“But he and I are?” Dean tilted his head in mock disappointment. “Come on, why not? Are you just maybe uh, scared?” He looked down at his hands, steadfastly ignoring his brother’s eyes. “Maybe of him saying no?”

“No!” Sam blurted out. As soon as the word left his mouth he wanted to kick himself. It would have been such an easy out. Dean looked at him expectantly and he threw his hands in the air. “We just – he really wants to have sex. And I don’t.”

It hung in the air, thicker than any uncomfortable silence Sam had been a part of in the last two weeks. It felt so heavy and tangible he almost wanted to shove it back between his teeth.  Dean looked at him thoughtfully, eyebrows furrowed. There was an absence in Sam’s chest where the phrase had been nestled. It was an odd feeling, for it to be gone. He couldn’t decide if he felt freed, or if he missed its weight.

Dean sucked on his teeth for a second. “So – so you don’t like guys?”

Sam couldn’t help his laugh. “Nah, I do. And girls,” he added quickly. “Just, I don’t want to have sex with them. Either of them. Anyone, really.” He chanced a glance at Dean’s face. He looked confused. “I just think it’s gross and I have no desire to – to do that. Ever.”

“That’s – huh. I wasn’t expecting that. Are you sure? Maybe you just haven’t found the right person.”

It was all Sam could do not to bristle. “Did you know you wanted to have sex before you found your first partner?”

Dean snorted. “Yeah. Point taken, I guess.” He picked at a blade of grass. “Well, damn. I could see that – getting in the way of some shit.”

“Mm.” Sam nodded. “Actually, it’s why Ruby and I broke up.” Dean raised an eyebrow and Sam chuckled in spite of himself. “She really, really loved sex. Like, more than Cas likes standing right in your personal space.”

No one said anything for a moment before both brothers broke into laughter, shaking on the step until Sam cleared his throat. The giggles died down, and Sam tried to hide his hopeful smile. “So.”

Dean shook his head. “You do have a knack for making things complicated, kid.”

“Being asexual is not complicated.” It popped out of his mouth before he could stop it. Sam winced. ‘No sex’ was so different from ‘asexual’. It sounded so clinical – sterile.

Apparently Dean thought the same thing. “Like a plant?” He smiled like he’d come up with something incredibly original and went to nudge Sam with his elbow before he saw his frown. “Aw, I’m just joking.”

“I know.” Sam picked at his thumbnail, trying to decide if it was worth the discussion. “But it kinda bugs me.”

“Oh.” Dean put his hands in front of his chest in defense. “My bad, then. So – so what’re you gonna do about Castiel?”

Sam sighed as he picked himself up. “I have no idea.”

Dean scooped both their backpacks from the stoop and swung open the screen door. “Maybe start by worrying a little less,” he suggested. “Obviously the kid likes you. Just – don’t do anything you’re not cool with, alright?” His face scrunched into a threat. “Or I’ll have to kick some ass.”

“Oh my god.” Sam rolled his eyes and snatched his bag before stepping inside. He held the door open for his brother and failed at keeping the smile off his face. That could have gone much worse.

As he made his way through the hallway, his pocket beeped insistently. Sam swore under his breath and pulled out his phone.

2 New Messages

He slid the lock across the screen and selected Castiel’s conversation.

 **4:11** _Hey, I wanted to apologize for earlier._

 **4:13** _I feel that I was accidentally insensitive. Are you okay?_

Sam’s chest swelled and he had to stop in the hallway for a moment. Maybe Dean, for once in his life, had been right. He dumped his bag in his room and pulled off his shoes before typing out a quick response.

 **4:17** yeah. i’m sorry too – i kinda freaked out. you didn’t deserve that.

He flopped on his bed and held his phone to his sternum, a blissed-out smile on his lips. The ceiling fan whirled quietly and the phone vibrated again almost immediately. Sam held it above his head but let out a disappointed noise when he saw the message.

 **4:18**   **Samwise, it’s Ruby. Did you ever sort out your shit? Let’s get dinner.**

He tapped his fingers on the case of his phone. Cas had family stuff on Monday nights. It was likely that he’d take forever to get back to him – and even if he did text back, Ruby couldn’t possibly begrudge Sam of replying.

 **4:20** sure, you wanna come get me in like an hour?

It was childish to snicker at the long, drawn-out sigh he was sure she was making as she read it. But Sam did. He tossed the phone onto his bed and dug his English homework out of his bag. Might as well do something productive while he waited. As soon as he had the thought, someone knocked at his door.

“Come in?” Sam called.

The door creaked open slowly. Dean hovered in the frame, one hand in his pocket. “Hey, you doing anything tonight?” He asked nonchalantly, rubbing against one of his shoes with the other foot.

“Er – yeah, actually.” Sam held up his phone as some useless evidence. “I’m gonna go get dinner with Ruby and talk to her about the whole Cas thing.” He watched as Dean’s face fell. “Is that okay? I could probably reschedule – ”

“Nah,” Dean cut him off. “I don’t care, I was just wondering. Benny hasn’t texted me, so I was just gonna be bored, is all. “ He shrugged.

Sam quirked his mouth to the side. “Have you texted him at all?”

Dean set his jaw and looked at a point in the wall just past Sam’s left ear. “Why would I?”

“Oh, I dunno, because you like him and you suck at communicating?”

Dean scoffed. “Whatever. Coming from you? That’s like Hugh Hefner lecturing on long-term relationships.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at it for a long moment before typing something short over the keys and jamming it back in his jeans. “There. Happy?”

Sam shrugged. “Depends, what did you say?”

“I said, ‘hey, quit being a dick and talk to me’,” Dean scowled. “Is it any of your business?”

“Whoa, fine,” Sam pressed his lips together. “Just wondering. I’m sure he’ll reply soon. Maybe you guys should get together and chat about some of the shit you’ve got going on? I’m gonna be out of the house for a while tonight – it might be a good time, since Bobby’s not home?” He reevaluated his statement and amended it. “Just don’t fuck on the couch.”

Dean grinned, but his eyes looked a little empty. “Why, Sam, I would never.” He clicked his tongue as he shut the door behind him.

Sam listened carefully as the television turned on and the sofa squeaked under Dean’s weight. He let himself relax as the muffled channels flipped. Dean would be fine. Hopefully Benny would talk to him and they could get their issues ironed out.

He just had a feeling that it was going to be a good night.

 

 

“Well, don’t you look nice?” Ruby whistled and Sam obliged with a short twirl, almost tripping on his new shoelaces. Dean snorted from the living room, tossing his phone from one hand to the other.

“Don’t be out too late,” he called as they shut the door behind them. Ruby rolled her eyes and motioned toward her car.

The Nissan was still churning away in the street, keys in the ignition. Sam raised a finger to reprimand her for a moment but thought better of it. “Thanks for picking me up,” he said.

Ruby chuckled. “Don’t mention it. You wanna go to Wheatfield’s?” At his shrug she nodded and slid behind the wheel. “I’ve been craving chicken salad for like, a hundred years.”

“That long?” Sam asked as he pulled on his seatbelt.

“Oh, definitely.” Ruby smiled and pulled the car into drive. “So, have you told your darling little cherub how you feel?” Sam opened his mouth and let out a hesitant groan. She whacked him in the shoulder without taking her eyes off the road. “C’mon, dude, you’re killing me.”

Sam couldn’t help but be indignant. “Killing you? It’s a little more difficult than just telling him!”

“Really? Isn’t that what I did when we started dating?” She let him stew in that fact for the duration of the stoplight. “At this point it’s just stubbornness. There’s no real reason that you two shouldn’t be together. It’s like watching bad television.”

“Rude,” Sam protested.

“But accurate.” Ruby winked. This, Sam couldn’t deny.

They pulled into the parking lot and she pointed at her purse between Sam’s feet. He grabbed it for her and they made their way into the restaurant and were seated by a pretty waiter with a vacant expression. Before he could rattle off the specials of the day and his suggestions for their beverages, Ruby cut in. “We’re gonna do two waters, a chicken salad on multigrain, and – a croque monsieur?” She looked at Sam for approval and when he nodded she leaned back in her chair, satisfied.

The waiter scurried off to get their order put in and Sam tutted disapprovingly. “That wasn’t very polite.”

“What?” Ruby unfolded her napkin. “I’m just moving things along. Honestly, I don’t know how you’d survive if I didn’t. And isn’t that a nice segue into the topic of the night?” She laid out her silverware neatly and looked up across the table. “So what are you going to tell him?”

Sam picked at the edge of his napkin. “I don’t know.”

Ruby looked up at the ceiling like it could give her strength. “You don’t know.”

“Nope.” Sam tilted his chin in a challenge. She sighed dramatically.

“Oh, Sam. Well, at this point, maybe you actually ought to do something a little more special than just telling him you like him and you’ve fucked up your entire relationship by making shit complicated and - pretending to date.” She said the words like they were spoiled. “God, I’m never gonna be over how ridiculous that was. Is.”

He smiled into his jacket. “Yeah, well. It’ll be over soon. I’m thinking I might go over there tonight.”

The waiter came back with their glasses and Ruby smiled sweetly until he left. She ripped the wrapper off her straw and stuck it into the water. “Really? I like that.”

Sam smiled and tore off the end of his wrapper, tugging it off slowly. “Yeah. I know he’s gonna be over there cause it’s family night - but they just do dinner. So he never really hangs out with anyone on Mondays, since he’s not hanging out with me. Basically, if we head over there after this he’s guaranteed to be free. And I can - I dunno. Tell him how I feel?”

He sucked down a quarter of his glass, a flutter of anxiety in his stomach. Saying it out loud was suddenly a terrifying prospect. He looked at his phone. No texts.

“Although,” he started to say, “maybe I oughta wait a little - ”

“NO.” Ruby slammed her hand on the table. “Absolutely not. Do it tonight.”

Sam took a sip of his drink, an amused expression over the lip of the glass. “You seem adamant.”

She spread her hands. “Can you blame me? I hate it when people dance around this shit. You worry for days or weeks or months and everything turns out brighter than sunshine. I’m just trying to speed up the process.” She watched him take another drink, not replying, and took on a softer tone. “Look, I know you’re worried about … matching up your junk.” He coughed on the water as she pressed on. “But there are always compromises to be made.”

It hit him like a knife between his ribs. Sam hunched over in his chair, fiddling with his wrapper. He had been trying not to think about that. He’d done so much reading, so much research, and it kept popping up again and again, _Aces can have sex too! Aces will have sex to please their partners! Aces don’t mind it, they just don’t seek it out!_ He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but maybe it was time to rethink what he was willing to do. Sam cleared his throat and tried to straighten out - maybe it would make it easier to breathe.

“Compromises?”

“Yeah,” Ruby shrugged. “If he likes you as much as any human being ought to, tell him to tuck his wang back in and cuddle for nine hours. And you can do the dishes.” Her lips puckered into a tight smile. “Why, what’d you think I meant?”

Sam huffed out a little laugh. “Uh - nothing. Maybe you’re right, though.”

Ruby clicked her tongue and shook her head as the waiter showed up with their sandwiches. “Sam, really. By this point I feel like you should realize I’m  _always_ right.”

Sam smiled down at his croissant. She really was.

 

“I can’t believe you really went and got flowers,” Ruby groused.

Sam pulled at his shirt nervously. “Daffodils are his favorite,” he mumbled. The tiny car seemed a little smothering, idling in front of the Shurleys’. “Maybe this was a bad plan.”

She stuck her finger an inch from his nose. “If you do not get out of my car in the next thirty seconds, I will kick your ass so hard my foot comes out your mouth.”

“Jesus, fine.” Sam took a deep breath and grasped the bouquet tightly before pushing open the door. He took five steps and looked back over his shoulder. Ruby gave him two thumbs up and a wink before turning off the engine and leaning back in her seat. He reminded himself that she’d be there the whole time - “a getaway driver,” she’d suggested. It was strangely comforting.

The door felt like it was a marathon away. Sam paused to wipe his hands on his jeans. The wind had stopped. The porch light pulsed. He gathered every last shred of strength in his body and knocked on the doorframe.

It took long enough for someone to answer that he began to wonder if he should ring the bell, but a young girl opened it a crack, a suspicious look on her short face. “Who are you?”

“Oh, hi.” Sam crouched down to her level. “My name’s Sam. Are you Hael?” The little girl nodded, swiping dark bangs out of her eyes. “It’s lovely to meet you. I’m friends with your brother, Castiel.”

Her eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh! You’re  _that_ Sam.”

He kept himself from blushing. “Yep, I think so. Would it be okay if I talked to him?”

“Yeah!” Hael smiled, but didn’t move from her spot right behind the door.

“Uh,” Sam hid a laugh behind his hand. “Can I come in? Or he could come downstairs; that would work too.”

“Oh.” Hael opened the door a little more. “He’s not here right now.”

Sam looked over his shoulder at Ruby, who was watching with her head tilted in interest. He turned back to Cas’ sister. “He’s not? Where is he?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. He left like an hour ago. He had some flowers too, though.” She looked at Sam’s bouquet with interest. “Can I have those?” Sam looked down at his $18.99 bundle of daffodils and handed them to her, wincing as a flower head tore off as it squeezed through the crack. “Thank you.” She stuck her face into the yellow flowers and inhaled deeply.

“You’re welcome.” Sam smiled. “I gotta go now though, okay? Thank you for helping me!”

She nodded as someone inside called, “Hael? Who is that?” She wiggled her fingers as she shut the door. Sam listened to the lock click and headed back toward the car empty-handed. He slid into the passenger side and shut the door behind him.

Ruby squinted. “Well? What happened? Who was that?”

“Cas’ little sister - he wasn’t home.” Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket. No new messages. “He had flowers, apparently.” They both stiffened at the same moment. “You don’t think - ?”

“There is no way he had the same nerdy idea as you.” Ruby shook her head in disbelief. They sat there for a second longer before she revved the engine and turned back around the way they’d came.

 

*

 

Cas had worn his nice shoes and everything. He had to say, he looked pretty nice. He grasped the arrangement of flowers in his left hand and smoothed back his hair. This had gone on long enough. He rang the doorbell in one short flourish, a smile dancing in preparation. Something crashed inside and his smile faltered, but he held his bouquet steady.

The door swung open with a grunt. Dean stood there, holding onto the frame like it was keeping him afloat. Cas tried to peer around him, but he blocked the way.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas. You lookin’ for Sam?”

The teen flushed at the mention of the name. “Er, yes. Can I come in?”

Dean pushed the door all the way open. “Yeah, but he ain’t here, so.” He made his way to the couch and flopped over the back of it, sinking into the cushions.

Cas stood on the porch for a second, unsure of the proper procedure. No lights had been turned on in the living room, even though the sun was beginning to set. He made his way around the couch and sat on the edge of the cushion.

After several minutes of silence, Cas ventured, “Uh, would it be alright if I asked where he is?”

Dean snorted. “Oh, he’s out with Ruby.” He reached down to the floor on his right and brought back half a beer. “The ex.” He drew out the sound, cutting it off only when the bottle reached his lips.

Castiel watched him apprehensively. “You drink?”

Dean waved him away. “This is the only one I’ve had tonight, chill out, damn.”

Well, that wasn’t so bad. Cas looked at Uriel’s car through the window. “I probably ought to get going if Sam’s not going to be home until later – I have some homework to do, and – ”

“Stay.” Dean pouted. “I think you’re a cool kid, you know? Even though you’re a nerd. You’re a cute nerd.” He nodded to himself and took another swig. “We should hang out. Y’know, for Sammy’s sake.” Before Cas could disagree, Dean chucked his phone onto the coffee table and spun around to face the younger teen. Cas watched the screen light up, reading _No New Messages._

“We got a lot in common, you and me,” Dean continued. “We’re both smart, hot dudes – uh.” He paused for a second, trying to remember where he’d been going. “Ditched by our boyfriends. ‘S shitty.”

“Ditched? What do you mean?” Cas bristled. “It’s not like we had plans tonight, and I didn’t call.”

“Mmmm, yeah, but he’s hanging out with Ruby. Ruby Ruby!” He gesticulated wildly, sighing when Cas didn’t understand his meaning. “He told me she’s a big ol’ horndog, you know I’m saying?” Cas squinted as Dean wiggled his eyebrows. “She’s probably tryna bang him, right now.”

Cas looked at him in alarm. “No. No, they wouldn’t do that.” He suddenly felt very sick.

Dean sucked on his teeth. “You gotta lot a faith in humans, dude.” He kicked at the coffee table. “’S stupid.” He looked at Cas out of the corner of his eye. “You feelin’ okay?”

He considered lying, but shook his head. “I’m not particularly fond of Ruby,” Cas mumbled.

Dean slapped him on the back. “Me neither. You wanna shot?” He reached down past the sofa arm again and lifted up a bottle of whiskey and another of vodka. Cas stared at it in minor horror. “Oh, c’mon, don’t be a baby.”

Cas looked at the clock glowing from the kitchen. “I – I don’t ever drink, anything,” he confided. “How much will this … ?”

“Get you smashed?” Dean laughed. “Oh, it’ll be fine; don’t worry about it. C’mere, I’ll give you one of each.” He poured the alcohol into two round glasses, up to the very brim and then two more for himself. “Down the hatch, Cas.”

They clinked shots and Cas regretted it almost instantly. He almost gagged on the liquor but choked it down. “That was awful.”

Dean shrugged. “Maybe you’re more of a vodka guy then, hm?” He held up his glass expectantly. Cas sighed and looked outside again. It couldn’t hurt.

 

 

The vodka was empty. It hadn’t been full, but it was starting to hit Cas hard.  Dean laughed and waved at something off in the distance. “You uh, yer a fast drinker hm?”

“Guess so,” Cas slurred. He tapped the side of the glass bottle. “Were you ser’ous, earlier? ‘Bout um, Ruby?” Dean looked confused. “Ruby Ruby!”

“Ohhh. Yeah, yeah, I was, yeah.”

Cas groaned. “Why would he do that? I thought he was – I’unno. Like me.” He looked down at his hands. “’S just a bummer.”

“Mmm,” Dean agreed. “Yeah. Yer better than her fer sher.” He took another drink from his previously forgotten beer. “Y’know, I think yer good-lookin’ too, or whatever.”

“Hmm?” Cas leaned back and let his head loll.

Dean sniffed. “Sammy, uh, Sammy told me you like me and I was just sayin’, my boyfrien’s not textin’ and yer boyfrien’s not textin’ and – ”

“Wait,” Cas sat up with a sudden jolt of sobriety. “Sam _told_ you I said I liked you?”

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged. “And you guys were uh, fake-datin’? Ta fake … date?” He grabbed the bottle from Cas and rolled it around between his palms absent-mindedly. “But t’day he tol’ me, uh, ‘s got NO int’rest in sexin’ you up, so if you were lookin’ for some Winchester dick yer all outta luck.” He snorted as he laughed at his joke but stopped as he realized how intently Cas was staring at him. “What?”

“So let me uh, get this straight.” Cas shook out his hands and tried to clear his head. “Um, Sam tol’ you – I wanted to fuck you.” It hung in the air like a rock. “Even though he tol’ me he wasn’ gonna. And now he’s fuckin’ Ruby?”

Dean opened his mouth, whether to clarify or to agree, it didn’t matter. The vodka dropped to the floor and shattered as he put his arms up to catch Cas, who was all of a sudden in his lap, arms around his neck. He kissed him hard, teeth mashing against lips and fingers curling in his short hair. They stopped for a moment and looked at one another, inches away. Then Dean took Cas’ face in his hands and kissed him back.

It was hot and frantic and it took maybe five minutes for Dean to sit up abruptly, pull Cas forward by the collar, and say, “Let’s move off th’ couch.” They narrowly avoided the shards of glass as they whirled down the hall, slamming into doorways and banging their elbows on picture frames.

“Fuck,” Cas swore as they tumbled into the bedroom. A car door slammed somewhere down the street as he whipped off his shirt and began to tug at Dean’s.

Dean chuckled. “That’s the plan.” He pushed Cas onto his bed and straddled his thighs. He pulled up his shirt and kissed his stomach, reaching for the button on his jeans. Cas looked up at the ceiling fan and took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Wait.”

Cas sat halfway up, one eyebrow raised. Dean was still on top of him, but he’d stopped unbuttoning, or really moving at all. “What?” There was a creak in the hallway.

“What about Sam?”

Cas gritted his teeth together to distract from the twinge in his heart. “I don’t care about Sam.” He motioned for Dean to come lie in the bed. Dean smoothed out the blanket and lowered himself next to Cas.

“But I do.” He sat up with a steady nod and crossed his legs.

Cas sighed. “It wasn’ real, Dean. I’ was all fake, jus’ fake an’ I was wrong an’ now he’s with Ruby.”

“Doesn’ matter,” Dean shook his head vehemently. “Don’ you like Sam? He’s smart, and uh, a good kid. He loves terr’ble music like Mumford an’ shit, and he doesn’ drink an’ he cares about dogs er whatever and he makes soup when people ‘re sick an’ he always sings in th’ shower even though it’s real quiet so he doesn’ think ‘nyone c’n hear. You know all that? He’s a good kid.” He scrubbed at his face with his hand.

“Yeah,” Cas pressed his lips together. “I do like all that stuff. I like it a lot.”

Dean nodded sagely. “Don’ do stupid shit cause yer upset and lose somethin’ you really love.”

It was the wisest advice Cas had ever heard from a drunk teenager. He contemplated it for a moment before the enormity of it struck him. He stood up as quickly as his body would let him and tried to make his way to the living room. As he left the hallway, a set of headlights tore from the driveway, at least double the speed limit. His stomach dropped as he recognized the face in the passenger seat of the black Nissan roaring away.

Castiel checked his phone, dumped next to the trampled bouquet on the floor.

 **7:21** hey, was just at your house but you weren’t there! if you’re not busy could we meet at mine? something important to tell you :)

The engine died away as Castiel stood in the living room, swaying slightly. There were petals and glass strewn everywhere in the dark. He clenched his hands a few times and patted his pocket for his keys. He was sure he knew where Sam would be. It would be so easy to go after him.

He turned around and went to the kitchen for a dustpan. It was time to clean up this mess.


	9. now there's always time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for alcohol, implied homophobia, and dangerous methods of binding. Disclaimer: I am cis.

“I can’t believe it,” Sam knew that he’d said it at least four times already, but that fact felt far away from the sick numbness in his chest. “I can’t believe it.”

Some part of Sam wished that it were raining, but it was warm and muggy outside. Ruby drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and rolled up the windows. They drove, listening to the sounds of the engine and the tires against asphalt, Sam stared out the windows, watching nothing but the sharp little blurs of streetlights passing. The car turned east and Sam watched the sun set in the side mirror. How could Cas have done this? How did Sam not see it coming? Cas had told him; it wasn’t like it was some secret, he just thought - he just thought things were more complicated than they’d seemed. He snorted quietly. Cas wasn’t complicated.

“So.” Ruby let the word sit in the air. It slowly sank as Sam steadfastly said nothing. “That was shitty.”

Sam laughed bitterly. “That’s one way of putting it.” He pressed his lips together before sharply turning to the left. “I just - what the fuck?” Encouraged by Ruby’s vigorous nod he continued, “Who does that? I mean, I know lots of people do that, but there was glass everywhere and flowers trampled on the floor - it looked like there’d been a fucking break-in, not like - like there was fucking, going on.” Sam trailed off and sucked at his teeth. “I just - I can’t believe it.”

Ruby took one hand off the wheel and then replaced it. “I know.”

“Do you?” Sam shot back before shaking his head. “I’m sorry - ”

“Don’t be sorry.” Ruby cut in.

“Right,” Sam ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I just - and it’s one thing, I knew Cas liked him. I hoped he didn’t, or I’d be able to change his mind, or _something_ , but he told me. I can’t act like I didn’t know. But Dean? Dean fucking knew. He knew!”

He threw his hands in the air with a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know. I guess - he’s going through his own shit with Benny, it’s not really his fault.”

“What?” Ruby slowed down as she stared at him, jaw dropped. “It’s not his fault? Sam, he’s your _brother_.”

“He was wasted.” Sam said flatly.

“He was an asshole,” Ruby asserted. “Regardless of what he was drinking. You’re allowed to be mad, you know.”

Sam shrugged. “A lot of people got it worse.”

“I don’t give a shit about a lot of people. Sam, he slept with your _boyfriend_!” Ruby ground her teeth together. “You’re allowed to be pissed off. Shit, I’d be fucking furious.” He didn’t respond and looked out the window again. She turned to him, stopped at a light.

“Do you wanna come to my place and get twisted? Drink some rum, smoke some weed?”

Sam turned back to her, one eyebrow raised. He opened his mouth to say something sharp, but a stray thought kept him from speaking. _Apparently Cas likes bad boys…_ Besides, who was going to get hurt? Ruby would be there. It wasn’t like anyone else cared about him. He felt sick.

She reached out and touched his arm gently. “Jesus, Sam, I was joking. That’s uh, that’s a really terrible idea for you right now.”

He let out a shaky laugh. overcome with something several shades lighter than relief. “Thanks, Ruby. Ugh,” he shook his head. “I feel like shit.”

“I feel like that makes sense,” Ruby quirked a smile. “Do you wanna go get chicken fries?” He looked at her strangely and she shrugged. “They’re sorta like drugs?”

Sam laughed in spite of himself. “I’ll pass. We can go through if you want some, though?”

She sighed dramatically. “I’ll hold off. You need all my attention in this time of need - no distractions.”

It was surprisingly touching. “Thank you. Seriously. You’re a really good friend.”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I know. Now, what are you gonna do?”

“Oh, maybe move to Florida?” Sam felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and almost took it out on pure instinct before stopping with it halfway out of his hoodie. “I’m a big fan of gators.” He swallowed thickly and turned it off completely.

Ruby hummed, pretending not to notice. “What about all the old people?”

“Old people love me,” Sam grinned.

Ruby sniffed. “They see themselves in you. Boring, reads books three inches from their face, issues peeing on playgrounds?”

“That was nine years ago!” Sam cried.

Ruby smirked. “You sure? Old people have pretty bad memories.”

Sam shook his head. It was absolutely not worth getting riled up over. He noted that his chest felt a little lighter, though. They were quiet for a few moments before Ruby spoke up again, softer.

“What are you thinking about?”

He looked straight ahead and debated lying. “I wish my parents were here.” He could see in his side vision that Ruby had narrowly avoided cringing. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“Don’t be sorry!” Ruby repeated herself. She opened her eyes in surprise at how harsh it sounded. “Sorry - I didn’t mean it to sound like that. It’s just really valid, to uh, to feel like that.” She tried to think of something to say to fill the dead air. “Would you want to talk to them about this?”

Sam looked down at his hands and laced his fingers together. “I dunno. Yeah. No. Honestly, it probably wouldn’t have happened. Dean never woulda told Dad.” He snorted a laugh. “He probably wouldn’t be out at all. And Cas never would have tried to get him to like him, and so he never would have suggested we pretended to date, and - yeah. None of this would have happened.” He frowned. “I don’t know if that’s better.”

Ruby tilted her head in confusion. “How would that not be better?”

“Dean would be even more miserable. He’d probably still be going by _Deanna_ ,” Sam picked at the dirt under his fingernail as he made a face. “So that would have totally blown. I dunno.” He looked at Ruby suddenly. “Did you know that Dad didn’t believe in bisexuality?”

“No fuckin’ way.” Ruby’s voice hovered somewhere between pure disbelief and laughter.

“Yup.” Sam rolled his eyes. “He was awful about shit like this. Like, I’m positive that ghosts aren’t real because otherwise he’d have come back to haunt our queer asses.” He smiled as Ruby laughed. “He was a real fuck sometimes.” He opened his mouth and then shut it again before murmuring, “I feel like I shouldn’t miss him as much as I do.”

He looked up in confusion as the car slid to a stop in a well-lit parking lot. “Ruby?” She didn’t reply, just took off her seatbelt and leaned across the console to hug him tightly. Sam let his arms hang in confusion for a second before hugging her back. They sat there in the light of Walgreen’s, feeling each other’s heartbeat. When they finally let go, Ruby tried to surreptitiously wipe a tear off her cheek with her shoulder. Sam did a double take. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Shut up,” Ruby cleared her throat. “I, uh, I haven’t lost anyone like that. But I think that it makes sense for you to miss him. Even if he was shitty. He was your dad. That can trump a lot of other stuff.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.” He rubbed at his nose. “I don’t even remember my mom.” He looked up through the moonroof and wished he could see the stars. “I bet she would have known what to do, though.” The sky was purple with pollution and tiny dots of light, far away. 

“Maybe,” Ruby folded her hands in her lap. “Maybe not. But I think she would have been proud of you for handling it as well as you have.” She held up her hand as he began to scoff. “You’re thinking about Dean, wishing for parental guidance, and you’ve been worried about accidentally taking advantage of someone for weeks now. You’re a good kid, Sam. You don’t deserve all the shit you’ve been through, even if you don’t think so.”

Sam coughed in a poorly conceived effort to cover up a sniff. Ruby did the same.

“That uh,” Sam straightened up. “That was pretty mushy, for you.”

Ruby groaned and put her keys back in the ignition. “It’s the terrible company I keep.”

They pulled away from the parking lot and turned back around the way they’d come.

  


“Are you sure you don’t wanna just stay the night at my house? My parents seriously wouldn’t give a shit.” Ruby stole a look at the Winchesters’ house. Cas’ car was gone and the front door shut. Sam dimly hoped that it hadn’t accidentally gotten locked. If Dean was asleep, he really would have to go home with Ruby.

“Nah, it’s okay. I can handle it. Dean’s probably passed out, anyway.”

She clicked her tongue and pursed her lips. “Well. Tell me how it turns out? I’m here if you need to talk - about anything. Okay? Like, whenever. I don’t sleep.”

He nodded, unbuckled his seatbelt, and reached for the car handle before stopping. “Do you - do you think I should talk to Cas?” Before she could answer, Sam huffed out a laugh. “I don’t know what I’m saying; of course I should. I just hope he’s okay. And, uh, that it all works out with Dean, or whatever.”

Ruby raised her eyebrows. “Just don’t let them get away without apologizing.” She leaned over and kissed Sam on the cheek. “Be good to yourself, first.” She waved away any argument he might have attempted. “Someone’s gotta say it. Now get out of my car and make sure your brother hasn’t choked and died in his sleep.”

“That’s a nice thought,” Sam deadpanned as he climbed out of the Nissan. “Night, Ruby. I’ll text you tomorrow and let you know what’s going on, if that’s cool.” He took a deep breath as he looked at the front door. It looked rather foreboding, for a front door. He clenched his hands at his sides and strode down the sidewalk with long, purposeful legs. The handle turned easily and he spun around to wave goodbye.

Ruby pointed at him in acknowledgement before pulling the car out of park and cruising slowly down the street. He could see her eyes watching him in the rearview mirror before she got too far away for him to make it out.

Time for battle, Sam thought, and immediately felt guilty. He took a few steps into the living room, ready to survey the damage, but it looked like everything had been cleaned up. There was no glass in front of the sofa and the bouquet of flowers he’d accidentally stepped on earlier was missing. The only indicator it had ever been there was a single wilted petal under the coffee table. Sam stooped down and picked it up with his thumb and forefinger. He smoothed the soft velvet, lost in the sensation until he heard a horrific sound coming from the bathroom.

“Dean?”

There was a long, echoing groan followed by the sound of fluid hitting water. Sam almost knocked a photo off the wall as he rounded the corner at top speed. “Dean?”

His brother was kneeling in front of the toilet, head resting on his forearm. “Sam,” he croaked. “Izzat you?”

Sam entered the bathroom and was immediately hit by a wall of stench. Vodka, sweat, and the acrid stink of vomit lingered in the tiny room and Sam stepped over Dean’s legs to open the window a crack, fighting the urge to pinch his nose shut. He considered leaving Dean to his unfortunate consequences but squatted next to him instead.

“Yeah, Dean, it’s me, I’m here. I just wanted to open the window.”

Dean murmured something and spat in the toilet. “‘S hot.”

“Yeah, I know. Can you move your head for a second? Uh - ” Sam grimaced. “Maybe could you flush? I cannot imagine you have anything else to puke.”

“Noooo,” Dean scooted closer to the toilet and readjusted his head. “I live here now.” He recoiled with a shriek when Sam leaned forward and held down the handle before realizing what had made the noise. “Oh. Thank you. ‘M sorry.”

Sam sighed. “It’s okay, Dean. You need to take off your shirt, though.”

“Why?” Dean asked petulantly, burrowing his head into the crook of his arm.

“Because you puked on it.” Sam wrinkled his nose. “Please?”

“Okay, kay, ‘m sorry,” Dean muttered to himself as he peeled off the damp tee. Sam swore under his breath when he saw the elastic bandage stretched tightly around Dean’s chest.

“Dean, why aren’t you wearing a binder?”

He shrugged and avoided Sam’s eye. “Dunno. Didn’ wanna.”

Sam blew through his nose, frustrated. “Doesn’t that hurt?” It was mostly rhetorical, since he could see the angry red welts whenever Dean shifted his body. He chose not to answer, instead hacking into the toilet bowl and moaning when nothing came out.

“Dean. First all the drinking, now this?” Sam cursed inwardly, dreading telling Ruby how this conversation was about to go. “Is there something you wanna talk about? Why’d you do all this? Any of it?”

At first, Dean said nothing. Sam was preparing to apologize when something came unhinged. Words began pouring out of Dean’s mouth, faster than either boy could make sense of them in between great, heaving sobs.

“Fucked up, Sammy, I fucked up, an’ ‘m sorry I’m so sorry I dunno wha’s wrong with me - ” he paused to wipe a long string of snot from his nose. “I jus’ love Benny so much an’ I wish he loved me too, also, an’ I jus’ don’ geddit. I don’ geddit I’m a good guy ‘m jus’ a lil bit uh, um?” Dean gestured around his body, helpless.

“Self-destructive?” Sam suggested.

“‘M a lil bit self-dessructive, yeah,” Dean agreed with another sniff. “Why doesn’ he love me? I love him, Sam, I love him, and s’not fair - ”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Sam mumbled under his breath.

Dean clutched at his head. “M’ head hurts.”

Sam clucked sympathetically. “I know, bud. Maybe we oughta get you to bed?” He reached out a hand and pulled Dean up from the floor, ignoring the half-hearted protests. “And you should probably drink a glass of water,” he added.

“Hate water,” Dean mumbled.

“Don’t care,” Sam retorted. They shuffled slowly down the hallway until Dean flopped into his bed facedown. Sam flicked his shoulder. “Dude, go take that bandage off and put on a tank top or a sports bra or something instead. Otherwise you’ll feel even worse in the morning.”

Dean buried his face in his linen white pillowcase. “Prob’ly deserve it,” he slurred. “I fucked up, Sammy, I - ” All of a sudden he sat up, holding his arms out to stay steady as he swayed. “You were there. You saw I made out with - with your - with your Cas, ‘m so sorry, Sam, an’ you’re just here? Helping? Stop, stop, go ‘way.” He flapped his hands at Sam, scooting farther away on the bed.

“Dean, it’s okay. Don’t worry about that right now,” Sam held up one finger and darted to the kitchen for a glass of water. He filled it about halfway and gave himself a second to breathe, massaging the bridge of his nose with one hand. Ruby was going to give him so much shit for this.

He returned to the room with the plastic cup in one hand and two tablets of ibuprofen in the other. The bandage was strewn across the floor. Dean wiggled into a slate blue tank top at the same time as he tried to kick off his jeans. Sam stood in the doorway, barely shaking his head. After all, it couldn’t hurt Dean to struggle a little.

“D’you need a bowl?”

“A bowl?” Dean looked over his shoulder, nose wrinkled as he managed to tug the fabric over his stomach. “Why?”

Sam extended his arm and nodded towards the glass. “In case you throw up?”

Dean’s mouth dropped open, offended. “I will not throw up, Sam. I‘m not a baby.” He sneered for a second before snatching the pills out of Sam’s hand and popping them into his mouth. They started to dissolve on his tongue, bitter and dry, until he remembered to grab the water, too.

“Ew,” Dean commented faintly.

Sam went back to the kitchen for a bowl. Dean rolled his eyes but slowly settled into bed, setting the scratched plastic bowl on the end table by the clock. He closed his eyes and drew the striped covers up to his chin. “Yer so good,” he breathed out, wriggling between the sheets. “Yer so good, Sammy. Cas is so lucky to have you.”

Sam couldn’t help but snort derisively. “Really? Earlier it sounded more like he was having you.” He regretted the remark immediately as Dean cracked one eye open and raised an eyebrow.

“Hm?”

“Never mind.” Sam busied himself with straightening the bowl and the clock adjacent, but Dean slipped a hand out from under the blankets and placed it gently on his wrist. Sam sighed, “Dean, we can talk about it tomorrow. When you’re sober.”

“I am so sober,” Dean enunciated.

Sam patted his knee. “You’re full of shit,” he said kindly.

Dean scoffed. “Whatever. You dunno. I know, so.” He poked at his temple and then touched Sam gently on the nose. “He was lookin’ for you, y’know.”

“Cas?” Sam could feel his whole body perk up.

“Yeah, now you wanna talk to the drunk,” Dean snickered. “I told him you were off with, with - with whatsherface.”

It was like talking to a child. “Ruby?”

“Yeah, yeah, the horndog. Ummm, I told Cas she was prob’ly tryna mack on you, cause of yer cute lil dimples, an’ I got him trashed, and then we made out on the couch.”

Sam’s jaw dropped somewhere in his lap. “You told Cas I was out with Ruby? Like, we were together? Dean, what the fuck? And why would you get him drunk? That’s so - why?”

Dean winced. “And then we made out.”

“Yeah, I heard that part, too.” Sam took a deep breath and willed his blood pressure to lower.

“But then we stopped! Well, firs’ we went to the bedroom,” Dean held a hand in front of his face to hide his giggle. “But then we stopped, cause I love you, man, I really love you and I knew I fucked up real bad, and I tol’ Cas about dogs and how you make soup and shit, and he loves you and we shouldna fucked up so bad.” He nodded, satisfied with this version of events and nestled deeper into the covers.

Sam held both hands up. “Wait, wait, what? Did Cas say that, or are you saying that?”

There was a long, contented sigh from somewhere deep in the bedding and Dean mouthed something that looked like ‘sweet potatoes’. Sam grabbed his shoulder and shook urgently. “Dean!” But his brother was completely passed out, already drooling out of the corner of his mouth.

Sam dragged his hands down his face. “Jesus,” he shook his head. His exasperation was punctuated by a tiny snore from Dean. He twitched a little, murmuring nonsense. Sam straightened the covers and patted his brother’s shoulder before getting up and turning out the light. He closed the door, then remembered stories in health class about people choking on their vomit and dying in the night. He left it open.

Walking back to his room, Sam straightened the picture frames that had come askew in the chaos of the night. He paused in front of his door, hand lingering on an old wooden frame encasing the family. Dean was in overalls, dirt smeared on his cheek and on his knees. John held him in both hands, laughing. Sam was wearing a tiny hat to cover the wisps of newborn hair, and Mary cradled him in her arms. She was wearing a long white skirt with wildflowers embroidered along the hem, Sam touched the glass gingerly. He wiped away a thin layer of dust and went into his room, shutting the door behind him. When had things gotten so complicated?

He sat down on the edge of his bed, belatedly realizing he’d never taken off his sneakers. He untied each one carefully and pulled it off his foot. The clock ticked, echoing in the near-silence. Sam sat for a moment, drinking in the calmness. It was like seeing an old friend he hadn’t talked to in a very long time. Everything had gotten so ridiculous, so quickly - this wasn’t what he wanted. He stood up to change into shorts. As his jeans hit the floor, there was a dull clunk.

It was probably time to check the phone, Sam reasoned. Maybe Cas had something important to say - something Dean hadn’t already dribbled out of his mouth along with drool and vodka breath. He pulled it out of his pocket and slid it open.

_You have (18) new text messages, (3) missed calls, and (1) unheard voicemail._

Sam stared at the phone. That seemed excessive. He slid the screen across and looked at his list of messages. Two from Ruby - and sixteen from Cas. Sam tapped on her name first.

**11:17 Hey, just checking on you.**

**11:18 Also reminding you DON’T BE A PUSHOVER. Let me know how it all goes.**

Yeah, she was definitely going to give him shit tomorrow. Maybe Dean would wake up bright and early, completely hangover-free, and they could have a real heart-to-heart about everything before Ruby could find out that Sam had played caretaker instead. He chuckled a little at the thought before steeling himself to open Castiel’s thread.

 **10:03** _I am so sorry please don’t be mad_

 **10:09** _Actually you have every tight to be angry_

 **10:10** _I fuxked up I’m truly sorry though._

 **10:20** _How can I help fix this ?_

 **10:32** _I picked up glass and I’m bleeding a little but it’s ok_

 **10:34** _I was going tk drive home but I thought you’ve outdo mad so I didn’t_

 **10:49** _Gabrielle and Uriel are gonna. One get me_

 **10:51** _I messed up everything I am so sorry._

 **10:55** _I rally like you and I’m stupid._

 **11:21** _They’re kind of mad but mostly cause I didnt have a tide_

 **11:31** _I’m so sorry Sam ate you home I want to talk to_

 **11:31** _You_

 **11:39** _Guess not_

 **11:43** _I miss you_

 **11:51** _We ve done so much talkin but no one is saying words. And I miss being your friend on top of this_

 **11:54** _Its okay if you don’t want to talk to me anymore though I under stand just let me know_

Sam opened his mouth and then shut it again. What was he even supposed to say to that? To any of it? Part of him felt like getting up and dancing about the room. His heart fluttered at the mere thought of Cas, drunk enough to text him sixteen times over the course of two hours to say “I’m sorry,” and “I really like you”. It was all, unfortunately, a little tainted by the image of him shirtless on Dean’s bed.

 **12:18** hey cas, if you’re still awake, just go to sleep. we can talk tomorrow, ok?

There was no immediate response, and Sam hoped that he’d gone to sleep with some modicum of care. Gabriel was known for being a bit of a partier when he was in high school, so maybe he’d had the sense to help out his brother with some aspirin, at least.

Sam folded himself into his sheets, cradling his phone next to his chest. It lit up the space under the dark sheets, Cas’ name still highlighted. Hot breath fogged up the screen. He tried to get comfortable, closing his eyes for a minute before they snapped open again. He’d forgotten to listen to the voicemail.

He unlocked his voicemail and waited impatiently for the recording to finish and just play the damn message.

“Ummm,” Cas started. There was a brief crackling and then several seconds of silence. “Hi. I was … sorta hoping you’d pick up.” He cleared his throat. His words sounded stuffed up, like he had a cold. “I’m sorry about what happened. I hope you’ll let me explain, or at least make it … make it up to you. Right. You’re probably, um, already sleeping. So. Call me back? Or don’t. Your choice. Er, it’s your choice. I’ll - talk to you later. Maybe. If you want. To talk - to me. Right. Goodnight.” He fumbled with the phone for a minute, briefly swearing before the message cut out.

Sam didn’t even bother deleting the message, just exited the menu and stared up at the ceiling. He sounded so guilty. Something sadistic in Sam’s head whispered, “It’s because they fucked.” He tried his hardest to tamp it down, but he could tell it wasn’t going to go away until he talked to Cas. Sam wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have gotten his own puke bowl. His insides felt like a writhing mass of snakes.

He tossed his phone onto the end table and turned over. As he shut his eyes and felt exhaustion slip over him, Sam resolved to be honest about his feelings for once and for all - in the morning.


	10. calling for me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for really icky acephobia and casual ableism.

The radio clicked on at exactly nine o’clock. Sam’s eyes snapped open as it played some awful eighties song - Dean would probably recognize it. As he thought about his brother, the events of the previous night flooded back into his memories. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned over. The guitar solo on the radio crawled into his ear and he could tell it would be stuck in his head the rest of the day. If that had been the only problem to deal with, Sam would have welcomed it gladly.

But as was so often the case, he had to get up and deal with his brother. Sam stared at his pillowcase before mouthing something profane and pushing himself out of bed. He pulled off his socks and headed down the hallway to the bathroom, rubbing his eyes blearily. Passing Dean’s room, he noted that the door had been shut completely. Sam paused, then opened the door and stuck his head inside. Dean had done a complete one-eighty on the bed, his feet propped up against the headboard. He held a pillow over his face and the sheets were strewn about the floor. The bowl Sam had set on the end table had been knocked over, but it was still clean. That was about as much as Sam had hoped for. He shut the door, very gently. Then a streak of younger brothers’ belligerence came over him, and he opened it again to shut it loudly. Dean’s answering groan was sweeter than anything Sam could stomach this early.

He smiled to himself, stepped into the bathroom, and immediately wrinkled his nose at the lingering odor of vodka. The window had been open all night - this seemed excessive, he thought. He shook his head and turned on the water, cranking the rusted handle all the way to the left. As he waited for the water to get hot, Sam shed his shirt and sat on the edge of the tub.

The water hit the porcelain behind him, drumming out a soothing beat. Sam put his head in his hands and tried to make some sort of plan for the day. Text Ruby - call Cas? Talk to Dean. Text Cas? Wake up Dean at ten. Eleven? As soon as he was out of the shower. Noon? Let him wake up on his own. Call Ruby? He pressed the balls of his thumbs into his eyes and shuddered out a sigh. Maybe he ought to call Bobby.

The steam pressed up against his back. He slapped his hands against his cheek and shook his head, stepping into the tub and adjusting the heat of the water so he wasn’t burned. Water streamed down his face and shoulders. The muscles in his back loosened and relaxed - Sam hadn’t realized how tense he’d been. He skipped over his generic shampoo on the edge of the tub in favor of Dean’s citrus mint American Crew. It was a relieving kind of vindication, knowing that he was going to smell delicious and it would probably make Dean’s hungover ass nauseous, as well as annoyed.

After scrubbing his pores sore, Sam turned the shower off with a dull screech of metal. He grabbed the yellow towel off the rack and wiped off the droplets of water before shaking the moisture out of his hair. He wrapped the towel securely around his waist and stepped onto the bathmat. Sam bent down to pick up the clothes he had discarded in front of the sink and frowned. They were soaked. He looked behind him at the shower, but the floor between was dry.

He brought the bundle of clothes up to his nose and recoiled immediately. They reeked of alcohol. Sam threw them to the side and knelt down in front of the sink. The trail of liquid was coming from inside the slightly ajar cabinet. He opened it and had to catch the bottle that came rolling out. It was a plastic handle of cheap white rum. The lid had come unscrewed somehow. It sat innocently, upside-down underneath the plumbing.

Sam stared at the bottle. Then, with no hesitation, he dumped the remainder of the drink down the sink. It slid down the drain, leaving no trace it had ever been there. He turned on the water to wash out the smell, then turned it off and left the bathroom.

“Dean, wake up.” He pounded on the door before swinging it open and letting it hit the wall behind. Dean didn’t answer with words, just a garbled sound of pain. Sam threw the damp bundle of laundry at him. “Why the fuck are my clothes soaked with rum?”

Dean cracked one eye open as he peeked out from under his pillowcase. “I’unno, Sammy, could you please use a quiet voice?”

“No, I couldn’t!” Sam shouted. “Why was there a bottle of alcohol under the bathroom sink?”

Dean’s face looked a little green, the dark purple circles under his eyes standing in stark contrast. He shoved the pile of clothes away. “Because I was drinking, we already talked about this.” He frowned. “Didn’t we?”

“Yeah,” Sam readjusted his towel, too angry to be self-conscious about it. “When you were drinking a glass bottle that shattered all over the living room floor. This,” he shook the bottle at his brother. “is plastic.”

It was odd for Dean to be speechless, but he was for a second. “It’s probably … Bobby’s.” Sam was shaking his head in disagreement before he even finished.

“Really? Bobby’s gone from drinking Maker’s Mark to,” Sam looked at the label pointedly. “Commodore Jones?”

Dean cradled his head in his hands. “Sam, please. I fucked up. I get it. Please don’t tell Bobby. I feel like shit; could you give me a fucking break?” Sam scoffed in disgust. “Well, what do you want? I already said I was sorry.”

Sam pressed his lips together. “Barely. You knew I liked him, Dean - and you tried to - to have sex with him. And now you’re stashing booze by the bleach? What the hell is going on with you?” Before Dean could deflect he continued, “I deserve a goddamn explanation.” He flicked on the light and watched his brother perform a full-body flinch.

“Jesus christ, Sam, okay, I’m sorry.” Dean struggled to sit up, squinting against the bright light. “I don’t know, dude. I just - are you only wearing a towel?” Sam raised an eyebrow and made no motion to change. Dean grimaced. “Could we at least get some breakfast first?”

Sam glared at him before nodding once, turning around, and leaving. He called over his shoulder as he padded down the hallway, “And take a shower, you smell terrible.” He didn’t wait for a response.

He shut his bedroom door behind him and wondered what he was supposed to do with the stupid bottle. He set it next to his shoes and made a mental note to deal with it later.

Sam yanked a purple shirt over his head, stepped into a pair of boxers and grabbed some jeans off the edge of his hamper. He ran a comb through his hair and looked at himself in the mirror on the back of the closet door. Nothing was too terribly out of place. He shrugged and circled his bed, finding his phone on the opposite side of the lamp.

He had a message from Cas.

**8:42** _Good morning, Sam. Please let me know when you’re available - all I want to do is talk to you, whenever it’s convenient._

Castiel’s punctuation and politeness seemed almost out of place under the long string of drunken gibberish from the previous night. Sam smiled fondly in spite of himself.

 **9:37** hey, you wanna get brunch or something? or we could just hang out in a park or whatever. up to you.

He had barely laced up one of his sneakers before his phone vibrated again, nestled amongst the covers on his bed.

 **9:38** _The park would be good, I think. Would it be okay if we went to the one by my house? Uriel won’t let me touch his car anymore and Gabriel just laughed when I asked, so if we go somewhere I’ll just walk._

Sam snorted while reading the message. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been on the side of Cas’ brothers before, but he definitely understood on this one. He almost offered to have Dean give Cas a ride, but stopped halfway through the first word. It just seemed like exceedingly poor timing to have them together again.

 **9:40** yeah, sure. like eleven?

 **9:40** _Perfect. I’ll see you then. Thank you._

Sam had to remind himself not to smile. This was such a mess. The dumb little flutter in his stomach every time Cas’ full name popped up on his home screen was not worth the complicated nature of their relationship so far. He had to remember that. It wasn’t even confirmed that anything would go anywhere.

He stood there, lost in thoughts for a moment before there was a tap at his door.

“Yo, Sammy, I’m gonna roll out in like five minutes. I figured we’d just bring it back here, you know? You coming?”

Sam turned the knob and pursed his lips. Dean’s face was pale and the circles under his eyes were more pronounced than Sam could ever remember seeing them. His wet hair lay flat against his forehead. Sam frowned. “You look like shit.”

Dean shrugged with one shoulder. “Is that a no?”

“Uh,” Sam mirrored his brother’s shrug. “You can go on ahead. I told Ruby I’d call her. Get me a parfait?”

“Ugh,” Dean rolled his eyes. “Parfaits are for rabbits and weenies.”

“Shut up,” Sam scowled. “Parfaits are for people who like parfaits. And didn’t throw up a quart of alcohol last night.”

Dean kept his eyes rolled back in his head as he walked across the hall, shoved his feet in a pair of boots, and swiped his keys off the table. He was out the door with a jerk of his hand. Sam massaged the bridge of his nose before picking up his phone and calling Ruby.

She picked up on the fourth ring, her voice murky with sleep. “Sam,” she yawned. “What’s up?”

Sam walked into the living room and closed the door Dean had left ajar. “You told me to call you, remember?”

Ruby gasped. “Oh! Right!” He could hear her bedsheets rustle as she sat up. “How is everything? Have you talked to everybody? Er, Cas?” When Sam didn’t immediately answer she sighed. “Or Dean?”

“Um, yeah!” Sam sat down on the edge of the couch, pleased to report some good news. “We sorta talked last night and then again this morning.”

“Did he grovel at your feet and offer to be your slave for the next six months?”

“No, not quite.” Sam frowned. “Actually, he mostly just puked and cried and told me to speak more quietly.”

Ruby snorted. “Typical. So what did he have to say for himself?”

Sam made some sort of noncommittal noise. “Ehhh.”

“Ehhh?” He could almost hear her entire face scrunch up in disgust. “You didn’t talk to him.” He tried to explain himself but she talked over his protests. “Sam! You deserve better than that. God, your brother is such a piece of shit. Yell at him!”

Sam huffed in indignation. “No! He’s so hungover; he’s miserable - ”

“Good!” Ruby barked. “He deserves it. And you should tell him so.”

He shrugged, knowing she couldn’t hear it. No one said anything for a couple seconds before Sam spoke up. “I’m gonna meet Cas later. Like eleven.”

“I would have called his ass at the butt crack of dawn,” Ruby said. “And screamed in his ear. And then told him he was an asshole.”

Sam grinned as he picked at the frayed edge of a pillow. “That sounds like you, yeah.”

“I’m serious, though.”

“I know you are,” Sam smiled. “I’ll make sure to uh, be hard on him.” He blushed red as she started to snicker. “Not like that! I don’t - no.” The front door swung open behind him. “Uh, Dean’s back, so I’m gonna let you go. But I’ll tell you how everything - how it all goes, later.”

Ruby sniffed. “Don’t be such a sweetheart, okay? And if Dean’s too fucked up still or he’s being a dick or you don’t want to sit in a car with him, I’m here. I just gotta shower and put on pants and stuff. But yeah. Bye. And good luck.”

“Bye.” He ended the call as Dean kicked off his shoes and reached inside the paper bag. He produced a parfait and proudly stuck it directly in front of Sam’s face. Sam accepted the plastic cup and looked up. “Spoon?”

Dean paused for a moment. He looked in the bag and swore. “They didn’t give me one. What kind of idiot doesn’t give you a spoon with your yogurt mush?”

It took all Sam’s energy not to throw the parfait. “Just go get one from the kitchen, Dean.”

“What, am I your slave now?” He grumbled, stomping off into the next room. It was less effective in his sock feet. He returned with a plate for his burger and a spoon for Sam, still complaining under his breath. “Move.”

Sam scooted to one side. He took off his lid and took a bite of the yogurt, watching Dean eye the burger warily. “You gotta drive me to the park, in like twenty minutes.”

The groan coming from deep in Dean’s throat barely sounded human. “I just had to drive somewhere. Why?”

“I’m meeting Cas at the one by his house at eleven.” Dean looked like he was preparing to protest again. “So I can fix all the shit you fucked up.”

It hit a little harder than Sam was expecting it to. Dean nodded and unwrapped the burger. “Okay.” He took a bite out of it and didn’t say anything else. Sam looked down at the granola in his parfait. He opened his mouth to ask something and ate a spoonful instead. The urge to ask about the drinking, about Cas, about all the bullshit was screaming for answers. He scooped a blueberry out of the bottom and swallowed it.

“So,” he paused and looked at his brother meaningfully.

Dean ignored him.

“You said we could talk after you got food,” Sam prompted.

“Why does everything have to be such a chick flick with you?” Dean demanded. “I got drunk. I’m a senior in high school. That’s what high schoolers do. Sorry to break it to you, Urkel. Think of it as prep for the real world, where everything is shit and people get wasted and make bad choices.”

Sam made a face. “That’s an optimistic outlook.”

Dean shrugged. “It’s true. So I don’t really feel like explaining every single decision you don’t like, because you’re gonna tell Bobby if I don’t.” He looked at the clock on the old VCR player and sighed. “I guess we better go.” He patted the keys in his pocket and pushed himself off the couch. “You coming?”

Sam watched him go outside, pausing to rub at his eyes. The car started outside. He turned off the lights in the living room and the hallway and joined his brother. Dean slipped his Dead or Alive cassette into the tape deck and they cruised down their street, listening to the opening strains.

As they were stopped at a light, Sam absent-mindedly tapping his fingers to the beat, Dean cleared his throat. “So.”

Sam pressed his lips together. “I don’t know what I’m going to say to him, yet.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t gonna ask about that; I was just wondering when you were gonna say thank you.”

“Thank you?” Sam squinted. “For what?”

“For driving your punk ass across town?” Dean gestured at the road.

Sam scoffed. “Should I thank you for that before or after mixing liquor and trying to sex up my boyfriend?”

Dean bristled, the tips of his ears turning red. “First of all, low blow at this point.” Sam privately disagreed. “And secondly, I think you’re forgetting that he’s not your real boyfriend.”

“Excuse me?” Sam blinked.

“You heard me,” Dean said, accelerating through the newly green light. “Not your real boyfriend. In fact, you were really only dating so he could sex _me_ up, so you’re really blowing this out of proportion.” When Sam only stared, his jaw dropped, Dean continued. “In fact, you probably ought to thank me for pushing this all along. Otherwise you wouldn’t be having your cute little Notebook moment in the park right now.”

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Sam cried.

Dean rolled his eyes and twitched at the corners of his lips. “Hand me the waterbottle in the glove compartment.”

“What? No,” Sam crossed his arms. “You’re being a piece of shit.”

“Christ almighty,” Dean muttered. He leaned over and popped it open, taking out a crunched disposable plastic bottle they’d bought in a pack of twenty-four. He narrowly avoided hitting the curb and gave Sam a dirty look before unscrewing the lid with one hand and taking a swig. He made a face like he’d bitten into a lemon and then sighed obnoxiously. “Refreshing.”

Sam turned, looking out the window angrily. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Would you rather I be dehydrated?” Dean asked sweetly.

“Right now?” Sam didn’t bother turning back for the conversation.

Dean whistled low, in time with the music. “Someone’s in a bad mood.”

Sam grit his teeth and said nothing. Dean seemed to have flipped attitudes entirely. His headache was gone, he didn’t look like he was going to throw up and die - it was nauseating how everything seemed to work out for him.

Dean clucked his tongue. “Okay, I’m sorry, Sam. That was kinda mean. I just --  ” He blew out a long sigh, the little pieces of hair he hadn’t gelled up fluttering at his breath. They coasted to a stop next to the parking lot. “I didn’t mean for you to get upset. I care about you a lot, okay?” Dean studied the steering wheel meticulously. “It was an accident. Don’t be mad.”

Almost all Sam’s instincts were telling him to forgive him. To say ‘It’s okay! I understand! Just please don’t let it happen again!’ But there was one little piece, red-hot and angry, that yelled louder than the rest. “I can’t just stop being angry, Dean. I’m sorry. But you knew I liked him. And you tried to  _fuck_ him. After I told you how worried I was about that - I can’t just let that go; it’s gonna take some time to get over it.”

“Well, Sam, maybe if you were willing to make some compromises your relationships wouldn’t always end up in the shitter.” Dean barked. He was ready to argue again, like he’d never even tried to apologize. “It’s _just sex_. And I looked up your thing? And lots of people like you have sex. Pretty sure you’re just looking for an excuse. Sack up.” He screeched the car into park and pointed at the figure in a long khaki coat coming their way. “Get out of my car.”

Sam did. He slammed the door shut and flipped off his brother. The Impala sped away, Dean’s music turned as loud as it would go. Sam hoped he blew out the speakers.

There was a bench in the center of the park, surrounded by flowers and the asphalt path. Sam reached it before Cas did and waited, trying to slow down his heartbeat. He couldn’t even identify his feelings. Anger? Trepidation? As Castiel sat down as close to his edge of the bench as possible, Sam finally named it: fear.

“Hello, Sam.” Cas mumbled. He was a pale sage color, and his cheeks were drawn. Sam doubted he’d eaten anything. The thought made him less happy than he’d hoped it would.

“Hey.” Sam tried to smile, but it came out more a grimace. “You’re up pretty early, uh, for how much your head probably hurts.” He made an aborted attempt at a laugh.

Cas shook his head. “You have no idea. I mean, probably some idea, with - uh.” He pointed where the car had been. “But no, this morning Uriel came into my room and played a short jazz solo for trumpet. In my ear.” He smiled wryly. “I deserved it.”

Sam laughed again - genuinely, this time. “Nah, I feel like you’re probably miserable enough.” He motioned to his face, and Cas chuckled.

“Not even close.” He took a deep breath. “Sam, I am so sorry. For everything, really - ”

“It’s okay - ” Sam tried to cut him off, but Cas would have none of it.

“I mean it.” His face was hard, and it looked like it hurt him to keep eye contact. But he did. “I treated you so poorly. You didn’t deserve any of this and I’m sorry I put you through it.”

Sam tsked. “Put me through what? I agreed to pretend to date you - it’s not like you had any obligation to me.” He set his face. “I really like you. I feel like you’ve gotta know that by now - but you shouldn’t apologize for something you had no idea about.”

“Then I apologize for acting that way instead of telling you how ardently I admire you.” He looked completely earnest, which made Sam feel terrible when he started to laugh.

“Are you quoting Pride and Prejudice?” Sam giggled.

Cas flushed red. “I - thought it would be romantic.”

“No, it is!” Sam hastened to reassure him. “I’m just surprised, is all. I thought - I thought you liked Dean. And my feelings were really hurt, but - but it was stupid of me to want you to like me, when I had agreed to help you with your feelings for him. Um. Yeah.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. It all sounded so petty.

Cas looked like he agreed. He folded his hands together inside the excessively long sleeves. “That’s part of why I feel so awful about the whole thing - I never liked Dean,” he finished in a whisper.

Sam’s mouth opened of its own accord. “What?”

“I know, I know,” Cas covered his eyes with a slightly shaking hand. “I mean - Dean’s cute, he’s attractive for sure. But I didn’t know him. I just - I just figured I didn’t have a chance with you.” He was speaking quickly now, speeding up as he tried to explain everything in no time. “I went over to your house last night to try and tell you I didn’t want to do this fake nonsense anymore - I wanted it to be for real, and after our - after we went to the fair, I thought that maybe I had a chance? I’d never really dated anyone - and I still haven’t, and I just assumed you wouldn’t think I was a viable option, but then you might have - but I ruined everything because I thought you were with Ruby and I just got so angry and jealous and it was so stupid.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I just keep thinking of you walking in and seeing us - and it’s such an awful, horrible feeling. I - well, I’m sorry. I don’t have a good excuse. It was just - it was stupid,” he finished blandly.

Sam pulled at his ear, biting back a smile. Cas sat there, looking up at him with his hands wrung together. “It’s okay,” Sam decided on. He slowly reached down and gingerly laid his hand on top of Cas’. “I forgive you, if that makes you feel better.”

Cas looked down at his hand in surprise. “You do?” Sam nodded and his body seemed to sink, collapsing without such a heavy burden. “I - thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Sam laughed. “I should probably apologize. I should have been way more honest with you - the whole stupid dating scheme was my idea. It was … really, really poorly thought-out.”

Cas agreed, slightly inclining his head with a short laugh. They sat there for a moment, Sam’s hand resting on Cas’. It was … nice, Sam thought in surprise. The two of them, sitting together and basking in the sunlight. Cas was hungover to hell, and Sam was still simmering with anger from his fight with Dean - but it was good. He could handle this. They could work, he realized. This wasn’t a game anymore. This was going to work.

“I know you got dropped off, and I walked here,” Cas began. He flipped his hand over and traced a pattern on Sam’s palm. “But if you wanted to, maybe we could - go back to my place? And I could really make all of this up to you?” Sam held his breath, his heart sinking. Cas leaned close to his ear and murmured, _“Privately?”_

“Okay,” Sam extracted his hand and set it in his lap. He hadn’t wanted to do it like this - or at all, really - but maybe tying up some loose ends was a better idea now than later, in a bed. Cas furrowed his brow in confusion. “Here’s the thing: I’m asexual.” The word sounded like it would accompany a gavel on a judge’s podium and a death sentence - or at least exile. Cas continued to look confused and Sam barreled onward. “I don’t feel sexual attraction. I really, really like you,” he stressed. “But I do not want to have sex with you. I don’t want to have sex with anyone. Ever. It makes me feel like I’m going to die. The thought of it, tangential to me, is nauseating. I’m attracted to boys and girls and everything outside that binary, but I’m keeping my dick to myself and I would really rather not have to face yours. And I’m not a fucking amoeba. Is that a problem?”

Both boys looked a little shocked as Sam finished his speech. He wasn’t surprised, exactly, that it had come out so confrontationally. After years of feeling excluded and months of being berated online and watching the same happen to others, it was just easier to start with his chin up and teeth bared. And in addition to Cas’ semi-constant talk about sex, it felt necessary if not natural. He raised an eyebrow, suddenly very aware that Cas hadn’t answered.

He wanted to get up and leave. To say, “Okay, I get it,” and ignore him for at least a week. To walk to the corner, call Ruby, and maybe take her up on her previous offer for various illicit substances. “Cas?”

Cas shook his head, something akin to disbelief on his face. “I just - what?”

It was not the most positive reaction he could have gotten, but Sam clung to it. “Asexual,” he repeated. Educating was something he could do. He didn’t even mind it, not if it helped someone out. “No sexual attraction. You know how straight people don’t wanna bang people of their gender? Well, we don’t wanna bang anyone of any gender. Ever. There’s a whole spectrum - demis, grays, aces - and romantic orientations, which is like what you know but also the ace stuff - yeah. I can print you out some stuff, if you wanna see it.”

Cas barely nodded, dazed. “Oh.”

Sam bit his lip. “Honestly, Cas, is this a dealbreaker? I’ll be a little frustrated if we went through all this bullshit and now - all you wanted was to fuck? I mean, it just - I get it. I understand, you can walk away now. But if you actually like me, why should I be the one expected to make a sacrifice? I can’t just - ”

“No, god no,” Cas interrupted. He looked horrified. “That’s not it at all. I just.” He tapped his fingers against his jeans nervously before taking a breath and blurting out, “I don’t either. Like. It. Um. It doesn’t make me feel - awful, but.” He motioned in the air, trying to convey something he didn’t have the proper vocabulary to articulate. “I - okay.” He dropped his hands in his lap, stared at his shoes, and started to explain.

  


_“Ew, no,” Castiel made a face at his brother. Gabriel chuckled._

_“You’ll grow into it, no worries, kid.” He straightened his polo collar in the mirror and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s the greatest thing ever invented. I mean, thank God for nookie.” He winked at Cas behind him, uncomfortable on the bedspread._

_Cas tilted his head to the side. “I just don’t wanna. I don’t think I’m ever going to want to do it. I mean, I’m a sophomore. Everyone else is doing it - maybe I’m just not wired that way, you know?”_

_Gabriel dropped his hands in frustration. “That’s not a thing, Cassie. You just haven’t met the right person yet.” He put a finger in the air like he’d just gotten a brilliant idea. “Are you sure - you’re not gay?” He pretended to whisper it in a hoarse shout. Cas rolled his eyes. “It’s okay, you know. I fuck dudes all the time.” Gabe shrugged nonchalantly as Cas gagged._

_“Gross, Gabriel,” Hester chided as she peered inside his room. “Leave Cas alone.” Gabriel threw his hands in the air as he left, muttering about being persecuted for trying to help the confused. She sat next to Cas on his bed, smoothing the blankets with her beringed fingers. “What were you guys talking about?”_

_“Go away, Hester,” Cas tried to keep his face stoic but failed, blush spreading across his nose and cheeks._

_She laughed like a wind chime. “It really is okay to be gay, Cas. Dad’s totally cool with it, if you were worried.” Hester frowned for a minute and put a finger in his face. “But use condoms. They’re for more than just pregnancy prevention.”_

_“I don’t care about liking boys!” Cas exclaimed. He calmed down a bit, trying to regain his composure. “I mean, I do. I just don’t want to - you know.”_

_She nodded. “You don’t have to pretend, you know.”_

_Cas raised an eyebrow. “I don’t?”_

_“No!” Hester smiled, patting his knee. “I get that Anna likes girls and Gabe likes everyone and they’re the hip, cool siblings.” She danced to her words, smiling kindly. “But it’s okay to be straight, too. Don’t just jump on the homo bandwagon to fit in. You know,” she nudged him with her elbow. “Technically, we’re still the majority.”_

_Cas stared at her for a moment, his mouth open. “What?”_

_She repeated herself, a little testily. “Don’t pretend to be queer. It’ll be super embarrassing when you’re out of college and you look back at yourself like, ‘Wow, what was I even doing?’”_

_“I don’t want to have sex with anyone!” Castiel cried. “It’s not a - no! Jesus, Hester.” He made a face at her and scooted as far away as possible._

_Hester followed, moving up by the pillows. “Oh, Castiel.” She pressed her lips together like a benevolent nun. “Maybe you should see a doctor? Now, don’t make that face at me - it’s a sign of depression, low sex drive. And probably schizophrenia.” She nodded very seriously. “Lots of mental issues. I mean - serial killers don't want to have sex, because they're incapable of love. I read that somewhere. Everyone wants to have sex. It’s what humans do when they love each other! We’ll just talk to Dad and find a therapist, and - ”_

_“Oh my god, I don’t need to go to a doctor,” Cas at her, horrified. “I looked it up! Look - !” He sprang off his bed and to his computer desk. Hester leaned forward in interest as he logged into his laptop and brought it to her. AVEN was up, along with several Wikipedia pages and a series of articles on the Huffington Post. Cas watched her click through them shortly, barely flicking her eyes past the first sentence on each page._

_“Oh, Cas.” She sighed and shook her head sadly. “That’s not real. People just try and come up with explanations so they feel better about themselves - but they’re kind of just being special little snowflakes, you know?” She patted him on the shoulder. “It’s okay to be confused.”_

_“But - ”_

_“But you’re wrong about this. You’ll find someone, I promise.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “And then you’ll understand what all the fuss is about. You’ll be a real grownup!” Hester beamed, confident in her advice. Cas sat there in shock at the blank desktop background, visible now that she’d exited all his research. She left his room with a friendly wave, a smile, and a promise to talk to their father about doctors._

  


“We never went - I told Dad that she was just being Hester and I had a girlfriend anyway. I just - you know, figured something was wrong with me. And I didn’t want to be like that.” Cas finished, trailing away quietly.

Sam had been sitting on the bench with his knees tucked under his chin, listening carefully. As Cas looked up, he took his hand. “I promise,” he swore. “That you’re not confused, and you’re not broken. Okay?” He squeezed. “And you’re not alone.”

Cas smiled quickly, lips dropping back into place before he could get over-emotional. “Thank you. I uh - um.” He hedged. Sam let him have as much time as he needed before continuing. “That’s why I picked Dean, actually.” Sam’s eyes widened and Cas cringed. “I figured, who does everyone want to - you know,” he apologized. “And I thought, there’s no way I’ll ever get there with Dean, who’s so happy with Benny, but Sam will think I’m normal.” He sighed and cradled his head in his hands. “It was so stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid!” Sam corrected him, pulling his hand away from his head. “I dated Ruby for forever and just constantly avoided her trying to have sex with me. It was nightmarish but I thought, she’s so pretty and everyone thinks she’s hot, what’s wrong with me? Turns out,” he spread his hands wide and shook them in presentation. “Nothing!”

Cas laughed in spite of himself. He wiped at his nose, although nothing was there. “So - so now what?”

“Well,” Sam leaned back in the bench and looked up at the clouds. “I think that some cuddling might be in order. To properly apologize. From both of us.”

“Sir, yessir.” Cas quipped. Sam laughed and dropped his left arm behind the bench. Cas fell into the space easily, and snuggled up to his chest with a happy sigh. Sam wrapped him up in half a hug and offered his hand to hold. Cas giggled a little before leaning up and kissing the edge of Sam’s jaw. Sam tried to stay cool for approximately half a second before dissolving into the same giggles. He pressed a kiss to Cas’ temple and closed his eyes. They sat there together in the cool sunlight and ambient sound, filled with something that they’d been missing before. All the bullshit - it didn’t matter, not right then. Cas laced their fingers together and smiled. It was like coming up for air and realizing how good it is to be alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for hanging in here thus far - and know that there's more to come! You knew it couldn't end this neatly!
> 
> There's a second notes section here because I wanted to say: every single shitty thing someone said to either Sam or Cas in this chapter has been said to lots of aces, but also me specifically. And it sucked, and I wish I would have had someone to talk to about it. If you wanna talk about ace stuff, or past experiences, or anything - you can come talk to me. asexualsammy.tumblr.com - my askbox is always open. Even if it's not ace-related. I'd love to talk to you. (: 
> 
> Thanks again and stay tuned for chapter eleven!


	11. i'm the light

Sitting there on the bench, a beautiful boy’s hand in his hair – Sam thought this must be what heaven was like. It was so calming, like soft, salty wind at the beach. He felt so motivated to sleep; he wanted to curl into the crook of Cas’ neck and wrap himself in his hoodie, his scent, his smile. It was hopelessly romantic, he supposed. Sam found that he didn’t care. The crisp autumn air was kind on the couple. They had their eyes half-lidded and blissful grins on their lips, although no one had said anything for half an hour now.

Castiel was the first to break their silent spell. “You know what I really like about you?” He asked quietly, continuing to stroke at Sam’s hair.

“Hmmm?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“Your compassion,” Cas stopped his movement until Sam made a disappointed noise. “I honestly believed that you were never going to talk to me again.”

Sam groaned. “Quit beating yourself up about that. It was a mistake.”

Cas let his hand hover next to the nape of Sam’s neck. “I know. And I know you know. I just – want you to know how much I appreciate it.” He looked down at his sneakers and kicked at the dirt. “I don’t know what I would do if I had ruined this.”

“Hey,” Sam nudged him, searching for a lighter topic of conversation. “Impossible.  We were meant to be. We just took a roundabout way of getting here.”

Cas smiled in spite of himself. Sam’s eyes crinkled - he was going to count that as a win. After a few minutes more of quiet togetherness, Sam looked down at their entwined hands and tried to gauge a difference in Cas’ coloring. Did he still feel like he had swallowed an exotic snake collection? He seemed to feel Sam’s eyes on him - or maybe he was frustrated that Sam kept moving his head.

“Yes?”

“How are you feeling?”

“About…?” Cas’ face crumpled in confusion before he understood and huffed out a relieved laugh. “Oh. Not fantastic. But I feel better just being here with you!” The accompanying grin was out of place for Cas’ features.

“So, you still feel like shit,” Sam clarified. Cas bristled, but didn’t contradict him. “Should we go home?”

Cas groaned in protest as Sam took out his phone questioningly. “Stay,” he pleaded. “I’ve wanted this for so long and I don’t want a little queasiness or your brother to ruin it - no offense, on the latter,” he added hastily.

Sam shook his head. “No, I feel the same way about your brothers.” He tossed his phone from one hand to the other while thinking. He opened his mouth to worry a little more, but Cas cut him off with an exaggerated sigh.

“Fine,” he pouted. “I think you owe me, though.”

Sam put a hand on his heart. “I absolutely do.” He started to lean in, close to Cas’ cheekbone and hesitated. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, listening to the frantic sounds of his heart. When he opened them, Cas had turned his head so their noses were almost touching. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he squinted in the sunlight, slivers of blue peeking out through his lashes. Sam froze, suddenly unsure of what to do.

Castiel made a decision for him. He smiled and pressed a soft kiss to the side of Sam’s mouth, barely touching his lips. Sam flushed red, the color spreading from his ears to his cheeks quicker than he would have thought possible. Cas pulled back with a soft laugh, pulling his mouth tight in something akin to embarrassment.

“Sorry,” he started. “I just - ”

His words were cut off as Sam darted forward and kissed him, their mouths meeting with a sharp snick of teeth and a little noise of surprise. They barely opened their lips and they kept their tongues to themselves. As Sam pulled away, Cas saw the smug smile he sported. He started to laugh, and Sam followed shortly afterward. They sat there on the bench, giggling to themselves and surreptitiously touching their mouths in borderline disbelief.

“Well,” Cas said after a pause. “That’s probably pretty - yeah.”

It occurred to Sam that if there was ever a time to ask, it was probably then. “Cas,” he started. “Don’t laugh. But do you remember, the other day, when we went to the fair?”

Cas clucked his tongue in response, shaking his head like Sam had asked him something offensive. “When I listened to Nickelback for you and we got stuck in a ferris wheel carriage and you didn’t even kiss me? Yeah, I remember.”

Sam leaned back in surprise. “So that _was_ the sign?”

“The sign?”

“Yeah, to, you know.” Sam puckered his lips in a childish symbol.

Cas rolled his eyes. “I mean, I don’t know if there can really be _a_ signal - that seems reductionary.”

“Thank you!” Sam cried, validated.

“But,” Cas continued. “I definitely wanted you to and was hoping you’d pick up on it.” He laughed as Sam sighed and reached up to ruffle his hair affectionately.

Sam shook the bangs out of his eyes and glared as Cas brushed them back in place. “You’re incorrigible.”

Cas snorted as he deadpanned, “This cannot be news to you.”

A valid point, Sam admitted as he ducked his head to laugh. It seemed to be a defining trait of most of the people in his life. The thought brought him back to his phone and he looked down at the piece of plastic in his hand. He frowned. Cas looked up to see why they’d stopped joking and laid his hand gently on Sam’s.

“I was just teasing earlier - call Dean.” He shrugged. “I mean, I’m fine. I just want you to be happy. And this - we - we’ll be here later, when you’re not worried about my delicate tummy.” He quirked up an eyebrow. “And also Dean?”

Sam, flustered, tried to wave off Cas’ guess. It was not particularly effective. He slouched, resigned to explanation. “Ugh. I shouldn’t be so concerned, probably - he’s a big kid, he can handle himself.” Sam tapped his fingers slowly as he internally debated how much he ought to be sharing with Cas. “I - I’m worried about him drinking? I know,” he closed his fingers over his phone tightly. “Everyone does it, whatever, parties are one thing, but like - he had a bottle of booze stashed under the bathroom sink. I think. He’s definitely lying to me about it and, I dunno. It feels really wrong.”

“I don’t think you’re overreacting at all,” Cas ventured after a few moments. “That - sounds very bad. Have you talked to your - to Bobby?”

“He’s out of town.” Sam reminded him. “I think he’s coming back tomorrow, though. He said about three days, but he’s going to see an old friend who tends to keep him longer than expected.”

“What are they doing again?” Cas turned to look Sam in the eye.

Sam shrugged. “Who the hell knows? It’s not like there’s anything to do up in Omaha.”

Cas hummed in agreement. “I suppose you could call him…”

“I just don’t wanna ruin his good trip with something that isn’t necessarily urgent? I mean, it is, but it can probably wait another couple days if Dean’s an alcoholic.” He grimaced. The word was a horrible taste in his mouth so close to his brother’s name. “That sounded really screwed-up.”

“I know what you mean.” Cas was quick to reassure him.

“And then we just had that dumb fight - he just never listens to me!” Sam jammed his elbow against the bench in frustration. “I just want him to be happy, and he makes terrible, shitty decisions, and gets mad at me for, oh, I dunno, having feelings?” He swore. “He might not even answer me.”

Cas placed his hand lightly on the inside of Sam’s wrist. “It can’t hurt to try - apart from it meaning I’ll have to wait to see you again.”

Sam chuckled. “You’re surprisingly good at smooth boyfriend talk.”

They both froze. Cas raised a coquettish eyebrow. “Boyfriend?”

“Well, yeah,” Sam willed himself not to blush. This was not embarrassing. “Right?”

Cas slid his hand down Sam’s forearm until they could lock their fingers together. “Right.” He looked up again and touched his lips to Sam’s jaw. “Weren’t you going to call Dean?”

Sam groaned. “You’re really giving me mixed messages here.”

“I thought that was our thing,” Cas grinned.

Rolling his eyes, Sam extricated his hand and scrolled through his contacts until he found ‘Dean AKA SID VICIOUS’ listed. “He stole my phone,” was all he gave as explanation.

The two boys waited patiently as the phone rang one, two, three times.

_"Hey, you’ve reached the most attractive person you know! Leave a message.”_

“Dean, quit acting like a child.” Sam grit out. He scrubbed his face with his hand and tried again. “Please. Uh, if you could pick us up, that would be awesome. Sorry. Right. Just text me back, or call, or - whatever. Okay, bye.” He winced as he ended the call. “That was awful.”

Cas squinted. “Ehhh. Could have been worse?”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see.”

Half an hour later, Dean still hadn’t called back. Despite Cas’ continued attempts to explain or excuse Dean’s silence, Sam was unconvinced and unhappy. The two of them sat on the curb of the street. Sam’s feet were folded under his body and Cas’ spread out into the street in front of the storm drain. A beat-up black Nissan curved slowly into view and Sam helped Cas stand. Ruby’s windows were rolled down and she leaned over to peer at them out the passenger side. She peeked over the tops of her sunglasses and smirked.

“Well? Get in.”

Sam opened the car door and bent to ratchet the seat forward. At the same time, Cas reached for the handle and their fingers bumped. Ruby cooed with as much sarcasm as she could muster, and Cas flushed red before crawling into the backseat. Sam cranked the seat back into its original position and buckled himself in.

They sat in relative silence for a minute before Ruby spoke up. “So. You’re official now?”

“Yep.” Sam looked over his shoulder to beam at his boyfriend.

“Good,” Ruby started the car and checked her mirror before putting it in drive. “I was really getting sick of the bullshit. But I’m sure you guys were just having a real blast.” She looked at Cas in the mirror pointedly.

“It wasn’t very much fun at all, actually,” Cas started.

“She knows,” Sam interjected.

“Oh.” Cas folded his hands in his lap and nodded awkwardly. “I understand.”

Ruby shook her head and shot an exasperated smile at Sam. “No worries, bud. So where are you taking my favorite pipsqueak on your first date?”

There was a crinkle from the back and Sam turned to see Cas examining a crumpled bag from Burger King. “Well, it won’t really be our first date.” Ruby made a questioning sound with her lips closed and Cas shoved the bag back into the cluttered abyss. “Our first date was to go get pizza with Benny and Dean – and we went to that movie with Dean, and then we went to the fair.” He shrugged, although it was barely visible in the oversized coat. “Technically our next date will be our fourth, if you don’t count this excursion to the park.”

“I wouldn’t count your hungover ass trying to explain why – why it took this long for the two of you to get together,” Ruby finished diplomatically. “And I wouldn’t count all your bogus bullshit dates, either. I mean your first real date, when you both know how the other one feels and no one is hiding shit, and you get pasta and wear nice pants.” She shook her hair off her shoulders as she made a sharp right turn. “I’m a low-maintenance girl, so I would be okay with a Taco Bell date in the car, but Sam here is a classy dude.”

Cas leaned forward in interest. “That’s true, he is.”

“Oh, shut up.” Sam rolled his eyes. “We don’t need to go on a fancy date. And the other ones count! They were totally good, really.”

Ruby looked offended on his behalf. Cas scoffed, “I never said they were _good_.”

“Amen to that,” Ruby concluded with a nod of approval.

Sam stared straight ahead, unsure of how to continue. It was great that Ruby and Cas were getting along – at least for now – but he didn’t really want to be the third wheel between his boyfriend and best friend.

It was a small blessing that Sam’s house was so close to the park. Ruby slowed to a stop in front of the house and unlocked her doors. Sam stepped out quickly and pulled back the lever to let Cas out. He walked backwards a few feet to give him some room, but Ruby pulled at Cas’ sleeve and motioned for him to lean in close to her.

Sam frowned. He strained to hear what she was saying, but Cas’ head was in the way of her lips and whatever she whispered to him was too quiet to discern. Cas nodded and said, “I would expect nothing less.”

She patted his cheek fondly and motioned for him to get out. As he turned around to step onto the sidewalk she leaned back and made eye contact with Sam, giving him two thumbs up. He rolled his eyes and she barely waited for Cas to gently close her door before speeding off down the street, going at least double the speed she’d taken the entire way there. Something with a thick beat started blasting from the speakers and they could see her stick her hand out the driver’s side window to wave goodbye.

The couple started up the sidewalk. As Sam rooted in his pocket for his keys, he eyed Castiel from the side. “So, what did she say to you?”

“Ruby?” Cas opened his mouth and then shut it. “Uh.”

“If she said you couldn’t tell me, don’t worry about it. She knows I’ll drag it out of you.” Sam smiled as they stopped on the stoop. He fit the key into the lock and turned sharply, pushing with his shoulder until he toppled into the dark living room.

He laughed in surprise and caught himself by the doorknob before motioning for Cas to turn on the light. Dean’s boots were missing from their usual spot behind the door. The pit in his stomach came back with a stab of worry. Sam turned around to say something but Cas was closing the door and handing the key to him with a subtly proud smile. He decided to wait. Dean couldn’t be getting into anything worse than he already had, anyway.

“So – Ruby?” Sam prompted.

Cas sighed. “She said if I hurt you, she would…” He made a face and raised his hands to make air quotes. “ ‘Rip my – ’ Do I actually have to repeat it? It was really, very violent.”

Sam couldn’t stop himself from laughing as he plied his shoes off. “No, I have a pretty good idea. Sorry about that.”

“Why?” Cas raised an eyebrow as he took off his shoes. He had to balance himself against the wall. “She was right to say something. I would hate to watch my friend be put through the events you were recently put through with me – I’m glad you have such a good friend to look out for you.”

Sam blinked. “What?”

Cas looked around him to see what could have confused Sam. “What?”

“You don’t think it’s weird, that we’re such close friends after dating?”

It was Cas’ turn to look confused. “Why would it be?”

There was no response from Sam except to close the space between them and clap his hands to Cas’ cheeks, drawing him into a passionate kiss. Cas made a tiny noise of surprise before relaxing, his hands hovering near Sam’s before settling there. He dropped the keys.

When they finally pulled apart, Cas ran a bewildered hand through his hair. “What was that for? Not that I’m complaining,” he was quick to point out.

Sam bit his lip in a smile before bending down to pick up his keychain. “I just – I really like you.”

Their simultaneous bashfulness was cinematic. Cas blushed from his neck up and shoved his hands in his pockets in an effort to seem cooler than his reaction really was. Sam winced a little at how cheesy his words sounded and touched a hand to his mouth to hide his laugh. He reached out a hand and waited for Cas to take it before leading him down the hallway to his room. He jogged out a moment later to turn off the light in the living room.

When he came back to his room, Cas had taken off the coat and was sitting on the edge of his bed, sock feet dangling. His toes wiggled in the soft cotton. Sam sank into the mattress next to him, their thighs close enough to touch. “Hey,” he nudged Cas with his shoulder.

“Hello,” Cas leaned into his arm. “It’s weird being in here, like this.”

“How so?” Sam frowned.

Cas let his upper body drop so that he was lying down. “I probably wouldn’t have felt comfortable doing this before.”

Sam followed suit. They both stared up at the cracked ceiling. “This is pretty tame. You’re straighter-laced than I thought,” he teased.

“I am even less straight than you are, Sam,” Cas cast a sly look at him. Sam rolled his eyes and reached over to hit him in the head with a faded red pillow. “Impolite!”

“Impolite?” Sam scoffed and in a second they had both sat back up and grabbed soft weapons from the head of Sam’s bed, slamming the bags of cotton and feathers into one another and shrieking with laughter. Cas grunted as Sam miscalculated his aim and socked him in the stomach.

Sam dropped the pillow in horror and scooted forward on his knees, hands hovering. “Oh my god, I am so sorry. Are you okay? I am so sorry.”

“You really knocked the wind out of me,” Cas wheezed. He motioned with his left hand. “C’mere for a second.”

Sam leaned in close, eyes wide as he continued to apologize. Then Cas struck. He swung at Sam with the pillow in his other hand and knocked him on his side. Sam shouted in protest, bringing his forearms up to shield his face as the two laughed in surprise and triumph, respectively.

They settled down, finally, breathing heavily as they ended up back on Sam’s covers. Cas’ eyes were bright and crinkled at the corners. Sam’s cheeks were bright red. He looked to his left fondly, where his boyfriend rested. They reached for each other’s hands at the same moment, entwining their fingers together. The clock ticked on the wall, but it wasn’t very loud. Sam barely heard it above the sound of Cas breathing, or the shift of his jeans on sheets. Cas only had ears for Sam’s soft hum as he put his arm around Cas’ shoulder. They curled into one another and both boys closed their eyes. It was like music.

*

Sleep tasted like ass. Sam woke up and stretched comfortably, a nice yawn going through his entire body. He made a face when he realized that kissing Cas might not be an option. He made another, less attractive face as his stomach growled in frustration and neglect. Cas had come uncurled in his sleep, sprawled out like a starfish. A tiny line of drool had gathered by his mouth. Sam smiled when he noticed it. _It was kinda cute, in a way._

He looked over at the clock on his bedside table and groaned. “Cas. Cas, wake up.”

Cas stirred slowly. “Ugh, what? Are you okay?” He cracked open an eye and focused it on Sam.

“We fell asleep,” Sam brushed Cas’ hair back from his ear. “It’s like five o’clock.”

“Five?” Cas sat up straight. “I didn’t tell anyone I’d be gone this long – I have to call them.” He started to dig in his pockets and panicked when he couldn’t find his phone. “Sam, I think I – ”

Sam reached off the bed and picked up the coat that had been discarded on the floor during their pillow fight. “Is it in here?”

With a sigh of relief, Cas pulled it out of the first pocket he reached into. “Thank god. Now just – hold on a second. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be!” Sam waved a hand. “You can tell them it was my fault, we lost track of time.” As Cas started to dial he shrugged. “I mean, it’s kinda true.”

Cas raised his eyebrows in agreement before turning to the side. Sam sat up and grabbed his cell phone off the end table – he had two new messages and a wave of relief washed over him. Maybe Dean was ready to finally stop being such a baby. Just as he went to open the texts, a less positive idea occurred to him: what if he was in the other room, sending lewd texts about the two of them being in his bedroom? Just the thought made Sam’s blood pressure raise a few points. He raised one finger to tell Cas to wait a second and ducked out into the hallway.

The light in the living room was still off. He took a couple steps more and peeked his head around the wall. Dean’s boots were still missing from the entryway and the TV was off. Sam frowned. He retreated back down the hallway and knocked on Dean’s door. There was no answer.

“Dean?”

When he was greeted only with silence, Sam pushed the door open slowly. The room was empty. Sam shook his head and gritted his teeth as he shut the door and walked back to his room. Those texts messages better be an explanation and then an apology. If Dean was trying to get back at him in the most childish, passive-aggressive way possible – this was a great way to do it.

Cas was turning off his phone as Sam stepped back in and shook his head with a sheepish smile.

“So?” Sam prompted.

“Uh, they’re not angry!” Cas fiddled with his phone before letting out a long huff of air. “Actually, they’re pretty ecstatic I’m with a boy. Since, you know, ‘losing track of time’ apparently means having six hours of intercourse, colloquially.”

He giggled a little bit as Sam pretended to gag.

“Gross, man.”

“Sorry.” He pushed himself off the bed and patted his arm. “What were you doing?”

Sam furrowed his brow and picked his phone up off the bed. “I was wondering if Dean was home – he’s not. I think he texted me, though.”

Cas nodded amicably. “Are you going to check?”

“Yeah,” Sam looked at the dark screen. “I’m kind of nervous to. I’m worried he’s just out having sex with random people to get back at Benny – that whole relationship is so screwed up. Coming from me, who engineered a real mess.”

“Half a mess,” Cas corrected. “And it turned out okay. What did he say?”

Sam slid the lock screen open and selected the texts. He had two from one contact – but it wasn’t Dean.

3:34 Hi Sam… it’s Benny. Sorry if this is kinda weird, but do you know if Dean’s mad at me?

3:41 My parents took my phone away after I got an F on a test and I haven’t been able to talk to him for the last couple days so I was worried when he didn’t reply to me at all today

Sam stared at the messages for a full minute, trying to parse their meaning. Dean had thought Benny was ignoring him – he didn’t try and send a damn email? “God,” he said out loud. “This is a mess.”

Cas tilted his head in question until Sam explained the situation. “Dean’s out doing god knows what because – because he’s sad Benny doesn’t want to date him, and he’s been trying to talk to Benny all week, and I think Dean thought he was being ignored? I have no idea, Cas – they’re awful at talking about their feelings. But you’d think he would jump at the chance to respond to the guy he’s spent like two weeks moping about.”

“You would,” Cas affirmed. “So where else could he be?”

“Let’s find out,” Sam muttered. He selected Dean’s name in his phone and called him for the second time that day. It rang out.

_"Hey, you’ve reached the most attractive person you know! Leave a message.”_

Sam swore. “Fuck. Dean, where are you? Benny texted me; he’s worried about you. You’re being sort of a dick. Come home, dude.” He paused and rubbed at his forehead in exhaustion. “I’m sorry. Okay? I wasn’t being super … polite. We can talk about it later, whenever you’re done doing whatever you’re doing. Text me back, okay? Okay.” He ended the call with another swear.

“I’m sorry,” Cas said quietly. “I feel like this is kind of my fault.”

“No,” Sam quickly shut him down. “Maybe you’re his reason, but it’s Dean’s fault. He’s not great at critical reasoning, sometimes.” He sighed.

Cas took his hand gently and Sam quirked his lips to one side, bending down a little to kiss Cas on the cheek. “Thanks, Cas.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Castiel reasoned. “He’ll turn up soon.”

“Yeah,” Sam repeated. “It can’t be that bad.”

*

“Isn’t it a school night for you, Winchester?” The stout young man asked. His friends laughed and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Who gives a shit?”

They murmured in agreement, a pretty college girl with her red hair in an updo clinking his bottle against her own. Dean smiled before taking a swig. She nudged at his foot with her own. “Just don’t blame us for being bad influences, hm?” She sat the tallest out of the three of them, her chin tilted up. Dean couldn’t decide if he was a little intimidated or turned-on by her. Probably both.

He barked out a laugh that sounded only half-bitter. “I would never.”

Their skinny, greasy friend snickered. “Worried Abbie would kick your ass?”

The girl threw a bottlecap at him. “Shut the fuck up, Alastair.” She pointed a finely manicured nail at Dean. “I will though, if you call me Abbie.”

Dean put both his hands in the air. “I don’t doubt that in the slightest.” His voice was beginning to slur. He hoped no one noticed.

“You still dating that vampire?”

“He’s not a vampire, what the fuck,” Dean stiffened.

Alastair shrugged. “Seems like he was really sucking the fun outta you – and if that’s the only thing he’s sucking, why bother having him around?”

“Don’t be crude,” the shortest man admonished. He had an accent way too heavy to be from Kansas. Dean was almost positive he was faking it. “But Dean, dearest, how is the high school relationship circuit?”

Dean groaned. “Crowley, I don’t wanna talk about this. I’m tired of dealing with boyfriends or girlfriends – can’t a guy just fuck around for a little bit on his own, have some fun? It’s stupid to get weighed down,” he chugged the final dregs of his beer. “I’m so ready to be a lone wolf.”

Crowley grinned with a smile the very definition of predatory. “Well then. Let’s go take a howl at that moon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, the song Ruby is listening to as she drives away is definitely Anaconda.


	12. blinking at the end

“I think he turned it off,” Cas pressed his lips together in frustration. Sam went to retrieve his phone from where he’d thrown it against his headboard. He ignored Cas’ reason and redialed Dean’s number. It went straight to voicemail for the fifth time in as many minutes. Sam jerked his arm back to throw the phone again but stopped when Cas put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Maybe having two phones out of service isn’t the best idea?”

Sam let him guide him to a sitting position on the bed with minimal resistance. He sighed and buried his face in his hands. “I know I’m overreacting, but I don’t know what to do.” His voice was muffled and he looked at his boyfriend through a gap in his fingers. “What do I do?”

Cas tugged his hand away from his face. “First of all, take a deep breath. It’s going to be okay.”

Sam didn’t think that was particularly convincing, but followed instruction.

“Good,” Cas encouraged. Sam looked at him expectantly until he admitted, “I’m not positive what the next step is.” Sam released all the air in a single long stream. Cas opened his mouth and then shut it. “I mean, that seems obvious in hindsight.” Sam shook his head and patted him on the wrist.

“Thanks, Cas.” They had been sitting there for too long without moving, without doing anything. It was starting to crawl up the insides of Sam’s arms; the inactivity was killing him. “When is he going to get here?” As if on cue, the doorbell rang. The shrill buzz made Cas screw his cheeks up in distaste. Sam was out of the room immediately, slamming his bedroom door against the wall in haste. Cas sat on the edge of the bed for a second, passing his hand over his face before getting up to join Sam at the front door.

Sam opened the door with a tense smile. “Benny, hi.” He stepped back to let the young man inside, motioning to the shoes by the front out of habit. Benny crossed the threshold with a little nod to the two boys. He looked nicer than he ever did at school - a dark jacket and casual button-down shirt instead of the football jersey or letterman’s jacket he wore almost every day. Sam could see the appeal.

“Sam, thanks for callin’ me - I appreciate it.” Benny pulled his hat off and smiled with one corner of his mouth, looking around the living room. “You’ve got a lovely home, here.”

Cas hovered by the hallway. “Have you not been here before?”

“No - Dean never invited me over,” Benny looked down as he scraped invisible mud off his boots onto the rug. “Always figured he was a lil embarrassed.”

Sam smiled as he laughed, a little confused. “What? No, all Dean ever does is talk about you.”

“It’s true,” Cas added. “Even at times it would seem unorthodox.” Benny raised an eyebrow and Sam rushed to interrupt the trajectory of that conversation.

“Benny, can I grab you a drink, or…?” Benny shook his head and stepped farther into the room, looking around uncertainly.

“That’s alright, Sam, thanks, though. Is it okay if I…?” He made a motion toward the couch and Sam nodded, sitting on the loveseat opposite the sofa. Cas stepped around the coffee table and made himself comfortable on the cushion next to him.

Sam tapped his fingers against his knee. “So, we were wondering if maybe - if maybe you could call around some of Dean’s friends? Or if you have their numbers I could?”

“Oh, right, uh - here’s the thing.” Benny took out his phone and looked at it in the palm of his hand. “I’m not really friends with Dean’s friends. We’re friends - but it’s more uh, an acquaintance sorta thing. We eat lunch together, we laugh at stuff, but I don’t have anyone’s number.” He leaned forward on the couch and let out a deep sigh. “Sorry I couldn’t be more useful, on that front.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Sam reassured him. Cas looked at him unsurreptitiously.

“Do you have another plan to find Dean, then?”

Benny jerked his head to the side at the choice of words. “Find Dean? Is he _missin’_?”

Sam rushed to explain. “No, not exactly - I mean, kind of. I haven’t seen him since this morning and his phone’s off. It’s not like we need to call the police or anything, I’m just worried.”

“This is all my fault,” Benny stared at the palms of his hands. ‘I shoulda been better about communicatin’, talkin’ to him.” He laughed humorlessly. “Prob’ly shoulda taken a cue from you two.”

Cas wrinkled his nose. “What do you mean by that?”

Benny shrugged. “I mean, look at ya. Yer obviously a great couple; I was always rootin’ for ya, ever since Dean told me you liked each other. And we got pizza together and you were so - I dunno. Yer good together. Yer good for each other.” He pressed his lips together and fidgeted with his watch. “Sometimes I get a lil worried that I’m not good for your brother.”

“We weren’t dating when we got pizza,” Cas mentioned. It was so off-hand, it took Benny a moment to register what he was saying.

“What?”

Sam stood up uncomfortably. This was dangerously close to territory he didn’t want to get into regarding Dean and Cas. That was a conversation for Dean to instigate at a very different time. “Does anyone want anything?”

Cas continued, “We weren’t dating. We were just pretending because - because I was jealous, really. And our communication was rather poor because of it.” He reached out a hand and placed it above Benny’s shoulder, unsure if he should press down. “Don’t feel like you have failed because you weren’t perfect. And don’t blame yourself for something that requires two people. Relationships are … complicated. But they can turn out so wonderfully.” He looked pointedly at his boyfriend and then back to Benny.

It was an awkward sort of pep talk, but Benny nodded. Cas patted his shoulder and then retracted his hand. Sam looked from one to the other, unsure if he’d missed something. It seemed to make Benny feel better, though, so he sat back down and coughed.

“‘M sorry, Sam.” Benny rubbed at his eye. “I just - I really, really like yer brother. He’s the first guy I’ve ever liked enough to wanna date - and that was real confusin’ at first. An’ he’s self-conscious, an’ neither one of us is exactly Mister Feelin’s.” He looked at the photo on the wall, of John, Mary, and their sons. “He’s amazin’, really.”

Sam nodded. “Tell me about it.”

“I really would, if I didn’t know ya already knew,” Benny chuckled softly. “Y’know one of the very first times I ever met ‘im, we were s’posed to be doin’ some sorta scrimmage - and nobody was gettin’ in my way. I’m not a tiny fella.” He hunched his shoulders up to emphasize his point. “Except for Dean. And all I knew about him was that he was havin’ some issues even bein’ on the team - some bullshit about boys versus girls.” He rolled his eyes in disgust. “And yet he was the only one willin’ to put a shoulder in my gut.” He smiled, remembering. Cas raised an eyebrow in confusion, but Sam put a hand on his to stave off the question.

Benny shook his head. “That’s not particularly romantic, I know. But I knew there was somethin’ real special about him when I ended up on my back, grass stains up my jersey, and that sunuvabitch just grinned at me an’ said, ‘You gotta little turf in yer teeth.’ I was so - I had to get to know him.” He laughed again as he shook himself out of the memory. “An’ now I’ve gone and fucked it up. He tackled me an’ started flirtin’ and I was worried about takin’ it too fast? What the hell was I thinking?”

“I mean,” Sam started. “I know it’s your relationship, but - there’s not anything wrong with taking things slow, especially if you were concerned for someone else’s feelings.” He smiled to himself as Cas flipped his hand over and squeezed their palms together. “I’d say that’s pretty commendable, actually.”

“Thanks, Sam, but I don’t think yer brother feels quite the same way.”

Benny’s words sank into the silence and Sam was about ready to turn on the television for some sort of sound, when his phone went off. All three visibly tensed and Sam fumbled about with his pocket. The harsh buzzing quieted as it stopped vibrating against the metal keys. He looked at the screen and deflated. “It’s Ruby,” he pursed his lips before answering.

“Hey, Ruby.”

“What’s up, nerd? Wanna go to the park and throw eggs at kids?”

Sam grimaced in apology to Benny. “Uh, sorry, but now’s not a good time.”

She clicked her tongue in disapproval. “You do know I was kidding about the eggs, right?”

“Yeah, I figured,” Sam tapped the fingers of one hand against his thigh.

“Eggs are expensive,” Ruby continued. Sam cut her off before she could make any other comments about terrifying children or vandalization.

“We’re kind of in the middle of something,” Sam ran his hand through his hair. “We don’t know where Dean is. And I know that shouldn’t be a big deal; he’s technically an adult. But I just don’t feel right about it.”

Ruby snorted. “Well, it’s not like he’s out snorting coke - but he’s hanging out at Abaddon’s, which I can’t say is a whole lot better.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. “What? How do you know that? Why didn’t you tell me?” Benny and Cas both leaned forward in anticipation. Benny mouthed _what?_ Sam reiterated for his benefit. “Why would he be at Abaddon’s?” Benny wrinkled his nose in a mixture of disgust and worry.

“Yeah, Lilith invited me to go hang out with them, but Abaddon likes to keep Alastair around and he’s a real sack of shit, so.” Sam could almost hear her shrug on the other side of the line.

“What’s her address?” He asked. “We have to go get him.” As he said it, Cas sprang to his feet and strode across the room, rummaging in the hall closet for a pad of paper and a ballpoint pen with a chewed-up end.

Ruby paused. “Why?”

Cas handed the pad of paper to Sam, who cradled the phone against his shoulder while he took the pen. “I - look. He’s been drinking excessively, and not talking to Benny, and - and we’re worried about him.”

She was quiet for a moment. He could hear her breathing. “Sam, I know you’re being a good person, and a great brother - but maybe you should just let Dean do his own thing.” Sam opened his mouth to argue and she hurriedly continued. “Hear me out. It’s not like he’s running a kitten fight club. He sort of has a right to do whatever he wants, doesn’t he?” He started to disagree but she cut him off again. “If he’s not answering your phone calls, then maybe what he really needs is some space.”

Sam didn’t even consider the option. The very idea was unacceptable. “He’s my brother. And I - I can’t shake the feeling that something really bad is gonna happen. I have to go get him.”

Sometimes, Sam Winchester was reasonable, open-minded, and ready to listen to alternative proposals. This was not one of those times, and Ruby knew it. She sighed and gave him the address. The three boys were out the door and in Benny’s Jeep in less than a minute.

*

It was the very image of debauchery, Dean imagined. All five of them sprawled in various positions across the sofa and the floor, green bottles crowding the coffee table and the floor. The dim lights lent to the ambience, although Abaddon had laughed when Crowley complimented them and pointed to the burnt-out bulb above their heads.  The carpet was a dark purple, ostensibly to soak up stains and hide tracked-in dirt. The walls were stark white, except for the crimson paint behind the television. It hurt to look at it for too long.

Dean coughed, pounding a fist against his chest. “M’ phone’s dead.”

Abaddon didn’t look away from her game. “You wanna borrow my charger?”

“Nahh, prolly should be gettin’ home an’way,” Dean confided. He leaned over to get the same view of the screen she had. “Imma head out in a second.”

She paused it and raised an eyebrow. “I figured you were going to - uh,” she struggled for a second to find the word that had been drowned in rum and Coke. “Crash here. You kinda drank a lot, stud.”

“Oh, not really?” Dean shrugged for a long second before rocking forward to a standing position. “Gotta get home t’ Sammy; I’m fine to drive.”

Abaddon pursed her lips together and looked at the other boys sprawled on the red couch next to Lilith, who had fallen asleep sitting up. “What do you guys think? More than four beers? I wasn’t watching the whole time.”

Alastair waved his hand in some vague representation of non-committal. Crowley rolled his eyes and dug between the cushions where Dean had been sitting. “Let the boy drive, Abaddon - he’s not a child.” He tossed Dean his keys and beamed. “He my besh friend!”

Dean rolled his eyes, a perfect mirror. “We ain’t best friends, ya goon.” He stepped around the couch and pressed a finger to Crowley’s nose with a wink before waving at the door. “Peace, bishes.”

The door sounded very loud when he closed it on the dark-carpeted room. He steadied himself against the frame and made his way outside, slowly. His boots sounded heavy on the carpet. Thud. Thud. The hall sconces were so dim. Dean found the front door at the end of the intricate maze of hallways in Abaddon’s basement. He smiled in triumph and closed it tightly behind him.

His car was well-lit at the end of the driveway and he had a moment of panic, wondering if he had left the lights on. But Dean quickly realized it was simply the lamp lighting up the porch glinting against the hubcaps. He sighed in relief and found himself at the driver’s side door. He patted his pockets for a second, unsure of where he had put his keys before finding them in his left hand. Dean laughed, shaking his head at his foolishness before opening the door and sliding behind the wheel.

He tried to put the key in the ignition. He tried to put the key in the ignition. He tried to put the key in the ignition. He tried to put the key in the ignition. He tried to put the key in the ignition. He dropped the keys. Dean swore and leaned down to pick them up. It only took him two more tries and a scrape against the plastic before the engine started, a dull purr. Dean smiled and looked over his shoulder. If this was north, then he had to go … south. Which would mean he had to turn … left, to get out of the driveway. He thought. He was pretty sure. He looked down at his hands, grasping the wheel tightly at ten and two and thought, _This is wrong._ Dean sat for a moment before reaching out and turning on the radio. The sweet strains of 70s rock came through the speaker and he smiled. Much better. He looked over his shoulder again and pulled the car into reverse.

*

“I don’t like that Dean’s been drivin’ all the way out here,” Benny grumbled. They sped along the road, the dark asphalt showing its age. Abaddon barely even lived in Lawrence. Her little house was on the outskirts of town, past poorly lit one-way streets and shady deals going down behind dumpsters. Sam was silent in the passenger seat, his knuckles turning white as he clutched his phone. Benny could not stop talking, spitting out complaint after complaint until it became obvious that he had no prior experience even close to this and filling the silence was the only way to deal. Cas fidgeted in the back seat, crammed between football equipment and textbooks.

It looked like they were on a highway, but Benny kept assuring Castiel that they could pull a U-turn if they needed to. They were in the middle of another argument like this before Sam lunged forward, pointing a finger to the opposite side of the road. “Stop the car!”

Benny slid into the shoulder of the road, tires crunching against gravel and the remnants of a broken bottle. They all peered at the spot of light three hundred feet ahead. “Is that…?” Cas asked. He didn’t need to hear the answer out loud. Sam was already fumbling with his seatbelt, trying to get out of the car.

“That’s the Impala,” he said, short and curt. Benny turned off the lights and made to get out of the car before thinking better of it, in their current situation and the area in which it was occurring. He motioned for Sam to go.

Cas followed and the two boys tripped out of the Jeep. They looked both ways and jogged across the street. It was an ominous sight. Sam felt the growing ball of anxiety in his chest expand as he realized the car wasn’t pulled over to the side of the road, but it was stopped completely and the driver’s door was open, music blaring from the radio. He could clearly make out the lyrics. A figure knelt before the headlights, dressed in the total black of silhouettes. Sam shielded his eyes and walked toward him. He called, “Dean?”

The figure looked up - definitely Dean. But he didn’t give any sign that he heard his brother over the music, bent back over, and continued retching into the road.

Cas stopped. “Sam, wait,” he tried to motion to his boyfriend but Sam kept walking, picking up the pace at the same time as Dean wiped his mouth on his sleeve and got back into the car.

*

Dean closed the door, the Eagles blaring from the stereo. It was so goddamn bright outside, but at least he was feeling better now - and at least no one had been there to see him puke. That was the kind of embarrassing moment Alastair would have tortured him for years about. He closed his eyes for a moment. He just wanted to go to sleep. But he had to get home. He rotated his shoulders and listened to the vertebrae in his back crack and pop. Good and healthy.

He turned off the engine for a second and switched off the lights, but turned up the volume. _“Faster, faster, the lights are turnin’ reeeeeeed,”_ he sang along with the tape before thumping his hands on the wheel. _“Life in the fast lane! Surely make you lose your mind, mm, are you with me so far?”_ He shook his head fondly, ignored the spinning, and turned the car back on.

*

“Sam,” Cas called. “Get out of the road?” Sam changed his course of action and moved to the right side of the car, waiting for the car to get close enough that he could rap on the window or - or something. He’d figure it out when he got there. The car slowed to a stop and Sam breathed a deep sigh of relief. He adjusted to a walk and looked in the side window. Dean was bent over in his seat, rummaging about under the passenger seat for a stack of cassettes that had fallen. Cas smiled at Sam from a hundred feet in front of the car, stopped and safe.

Dean reached back up and flicked on the brights, still collecting cassettes.

Cas was blinded. He threw his arms up to cover his eyes, unaware that Dean hadn’t seen him - hadn’t seen either of them, Sam realized with a jolt. He moved before he could even think, sprinting ahead of the slow-rolling car and yelling, “Cas,  _move!_ ”

He turned in confusion as Sam barreled at him, physically shoving him out of the way as Dean stepped on the gas. The eldest Winchester sat back up in time to see his brother’s face illuminated by headlights, just before his head hit the windshield.

Cas hit the ground with a dull thump, but he didn’t hear it. He didn’t hear anything - not the sound of the tires spinning on gravel, not the sound of a body hitting the hood of a car, not the sound of glass shattering and embedding itself in faces and arms and abdomens. He saw Sam’s leg twist at an angle it wasn’t meant to, but he didn’t hear the snap that must have accompanied it. Everything was ringing.

It smelled like burnt rubber. Castiel forced himself to sit up. It didn’t hurt. He looked down at his palms and picked out a piece of glass. There was a dark shape blurring toward the car, calling Dean’s name. He reasoned that it must be Benny. He shook his head. He thought it must hurt.

Sam was in the road. Cas stood up and walked toward him, slowly. Everything was spinning so fast. Sam coughed. His shirt was ripped and blood dripped from a cut above his hairline. Cas turned to the side and threw up. Everything reeked. He wobbled and sat down heavily next to Sam’s arm. It was definitely broken. He fought the urge to throw up again before taking out his phone and dialing 911.

The ambulance took too long. Benny stood at the car, hands hovering over Dean’s body, resting over the steering wheel. Blood dripped from his nose and the corner of his mouth. Music still played from the speakers. By the time the EMTs got there, Cas had moved to Sam’s other side so that they could hold hands, lying on asphalt and glass.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Cas whispered. Sam had closed his eyes. Had they been open before? “It’s gonna be okay.”


	13. of the road

It was like a dream – several dreams, thrown together in a cotton candy machine. Streaks of white and yellow and blue swirled without forming any concrete images. But mostly there was red. There was a lot of red, and a lot of black, and a lot of yelling. Dean didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t flutter his lashes, and he didn’t make a desperate, difficult, and heart-wrenching effort to speak before his lungs and mouth and throat and brain were ready to accommodate him. He didn’t move at all.

That wasn’t something to fret over, the doctors told Bobby, not yet. He was just out of surgery, just wrapped up and splinted together. He looked terrible. A windshield to the face will do that to a person. The delicate freckles sprinkled on his cheeks were sliced open, gouges and gashes up and down his nose, his chin, his forehead – violet blood vessels crept out from the bandage on his broken nose. His eyes were swollen and purple – any part of the accident could have caused that. The ice packs on his neck and ribs covered the worst of his injuries - the muscle strain from whiplash, the broken ribs and pulmonary contusion.

He was lucky, a particularly chipper nurse told Bobby, that he didn’t have alcohol poisoning to boot. Dean was gonna be just fine.

“And Sam?”

The doctor was much quieter in response to this question. “He’s still in surgery – it’s going to be a little more complicated. His diaphragm was torn – which suggests other injury to major internal organs.”

A diaphragmatic rupture, they said, didn’t happen often. It could lead to hernias, to rips in the liver and the spleen and anywhere else. Sam looked worse than Dean. A vehicle to the body at over thirty miles an hour will do that to a person.

Bobby drove back from Omaha as soon as he got the call, barely saying goodbye to Rufus before speeding onto the interstate and driving three hours to get back in the wee hours of the morning. He had barreled into the hospital, eyes red-rimmed and ID slipping from between his fingers as he tried to collect himself enough to talk to the receptionist.

“Bobby Singer – Sam and Dean? Sam and Dean Winchester? Are they okay? Are they awake? Where are they?”

It all seemed very far away. The hospital wasn’t bustling with frenzied activity – everyone seemed so calm around Bobby. Their sterile scrubs and neatly tied back ponytails seemed at odds with his haggard cheeks and shaking hands.

Castiel’s concussion was pretty bad, they kept saying. They must have said it at least fifty times, because he could remember ten clearly. He felt like he was going to be sick again, but wasn’t sure if it was from the bruise on the side of his brain or the image of Sam’s pale face, hair pasted to the side with dark, thick blood. It was there every time he closed his eyes.

Benny was gone. His mom had picked him up when he called and said there was no way he could drive, even if they hadn’t left his car on the side of the road. She fretted over him, wondering why he would have been out like this, why he would have been involved at all, if he was okay, if maybe this wasn’t a sign that he should be seeing a nice girl instead – Cas had forgotten most of the rest. It was all just so blurry. He did remember Benny looking back, hands balled into helpless fists and asking him to text if something happened.

Cas reached up to scratch at his eyebrow and winced. He kept forgetting about his shoulder. They had already popped it back into its socket, and the cuts and scrapes on his face and hands were covered in Neosporin and bandaged appropriately. It was a small mercy, he thought, that they were letting him stay.

They had called his dad. He’d come in the morning, he said. The nurse had bit her lip and turned away from Cas, speaking low so that he couldn’t hear. He closed his eyes and leaned back. It was so nice to relax like that, to just drift away for a bit…

“Hey - honey, you can’t sleep in here; it’s technically not your room.” She was kind, but firm as she pulled him upright. “Maybe you wanna talk to Mr. Singer, for a bit? Your friend Dean’s okay, did anyone tell you?” She perched next to him on the bed. It occurred to him that he didn’t know her name, but he didn’t think of asking.

“I don’t care,” he heard himself say. She raised her eyebrows, unsure what to say. “He hit Sam with a car, did you know that?”

She started to say something, but it didn’t register. Something about saying it out loud was almost more horrifying than being there to watch it happen. “He hit Sam with a car,” he repeated. The room started to spin again. “A car. With a car.” He stood up abruptly and swayed. The nurse was on her feet instantly, asking him to please sit down and he swatted at her. “No, I – I gotta get outta here.” He looked frantically for the door, ignoring his nausea in favor of the growing pit in his chest. It felt like someone had shot a cannonball through his lungs. How to breathe, again? He had to leave, he had to go somewhere else, anywhere else, he couldn’t be here, Dean hit Sam with _a car_ , he had to leave _right now_.

“Deep breaths,” the nurse coached as she guided him gently back to sitting. “It’s gonna be okay – you’re having a panic attack. Just – deep breaths.”

“No, I – I think something’s wrong,” Cas attempted to explain. “This is very wrong, I think I’m – I think I’m dying - I need to go see Sam - _please_ \- ”

“You’re definitely having a panic attack, Clarence,” she pressed her lips together in a sympathetic smile. “Seriously, deep breaths. Sam’s in surgery right now, and I promise you’re not dying. You do, however, need to calm down.”

He began to listen to her instructions before frowning midway. “My name’s Castiel, not Clarence.”

“Yeah, I know,” she winked. “It’s just a little joke. Clarence is the angel in that Christmas movie – haven’t you seen It’s a Wonderful Life?”

“No.” Cas looked down at his hands and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly like the nurse had demonstrated. “I would be a pretty shitty angel though, so you might want to pick a different joke.”

She laughed a little and nudged his foot, encouraging him to continue.

“It’s my fault.” The last words were barely a whisper. The nurse tilted her head to the side and waited for him to elaborate.

“The car – fuck. I was in the way of the car. I should be in there, not him.” The words weren’t so much lifting a weight off his chest as they were like moving it to his stomach. Cas hadn’t said it out loud to anyone – hell, Benny hadn’t seen and both the Winchesters were unconscious – no one else might even know. He hunched forward, scrunching his eyes shut and immediately regretting his decision to tell her. But what if it was important? What if it changed how they looked at Sam’s injuries?

She placed a hand on his good shoulder and rubbed tiny little circles with her thumb. “We know, hon – you told the EMTs. Do you remember that?”

He didn’t. Obviously. If that gap in his memory concerned her, she did a good job not letting it show. “Do you want to talk about it?”

And he did. She listened to him quietly, nodding her head at appropriate moments and wincing when he described the wreck in stilted, aborted phrases. The dismal feeling of impending doom and frenetic urgency passed without him noticing. As he finished his story, her pager went off. She rolled her eyes and stood up, leaning forward to look him in the eye. “Are you gonna be okay if I go take care of this quack? I can send some intern in here if you need a little company.”

Cas smiled in spite of himself. “No, that’s okay. I think I’m – gonna go see Bobby in Dean’s room. If that’s okay.”

She nodded and scribbled the room number onto a scrap of paper. “That’s a great idea, Cas - unless you feel dizzy. I’ll come right back after I fix this and then we can walk up together.” She swore under her breath as the pager beeped again. “Oh my god, I’m coming – you good?”

“Yeah.” He started to watch her go, but blurted out, “Wait – I didn’t catch your name?”

She smiled, rather patient for someone Cas suspected had introduced herself a couple times. “Meg. Let me know if you need anything, okay? I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”

“Definitely.” He grinned and looked down at the piece of paper as she left. 267E. He suddenly realized that he was not entirely sure which floor he was on. It couldn’t be that difficult to figure out, though.

He pushed himself gently to his feet and waited for the room to focus a little better. Cas couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in a hospital. Maybe when Hael had gotten her appendix out. It wasn’t the kind of environment one could easily forget. It smelled like hand sanitizer and freshly mopped floors. Half the doctors smiled and the other half strode purposefully down the halls, not making eye contact with anyone who might be beneath them. He glanced at the room number on his door. 212A. Good. They had to be around here somewhere.

It took the longest twenty seconds of his life to figure out the numbers went up to the left and down to the right. Fantastic. That was a good start. It occurred to him vaguely that perhaps Meg should have kept a little stricter of an eye on him. Cas wondered if she was even a real nurse. He chuckled at the thought and watched as the room numbers continued to ascend. 220. 222. 224.

But at 250, the hallway stopped. He spun around in a circle, looking for another wing or direction to follow the numbers. The closest room after 250 said 200. Cas swore as he leaned against the white wall and avoided eye contact with a hurried resident. Why did buildings this large have to be so confusing?

The hallway widened to his left, and he could see what looked like vending machines. He walked slowly, hoping it looked more like a casual saunter and less like he was praying to God he wouldn’t fall down.

A family sat in the polyester chairs, half asleep and playing on their phones as they waited for some sort of news. A woman, presumably the mother, held a half-empty styrofoam cup of coffee that was no longer steaming. She stared ahead at the wall, eyes watering. Cas walked in front of her, mumbling an apology. She didn’t answer.

He made his way to the corner of the room, where a stocky man was pouring himself a cup of coffee with shaking hands. All his movements were fast-fast-fast, like he was afraid that if he took too long he might miss something important. He turned around sharply as Cas tilted his head to the side and stopped. “Cas?”

“Mr. Singer,” Cas affirmed. He stared at Sam’s guardian for a moment before remembering to stick out his hand. Bobby switched the coffee to his other hand and clasped Cas’ firmly. “I’m so sorry about all this.”

“Is it your fault?” Bobby asked. The cup left little imprints where his fingers had been. His eyes were drooping and his voice hoarse. His usually neatly trimmed beard seemed grey and sparse. He wasn’t wearing a hat. Cas didn’t know if he’d ever seen him without a hat.

“I don’t - no.” Cas answered. He looked down at his feet. When he felt a soft hand on his upper arm, he looked up.

“Then it’s Bobby,” he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Ain’t you supposed to be in a hospital room of your own? You don’t look so hot, either.”

Cas shrugged. “I left. How is Dean?”

Bobby paused before stepping in front of Cas and motioning for him to follow. “Not great. But he’s gonna live. ‘Til he wakes up and I kick his ass, at least.” He sniffed and then swore. “I just don’t get it. What the fuck happened? Dean’s a good kid. Driving drunk?” Cas opened his mouth to offer some sort of explanation, but Bobby pressed on. “Is it about that boy?”

“Benny?” Cas asked.

Bobby started, like he’d forgotten he was there. “Right, Benny.”

“Absolutely not,” Cas assured. “Benny is a great influence. Dean’s been - he’s made some friends that aren’t.”

“Who are they? I’m gonna get the cops to beat the shit out of them - slap them all with providing minors, and, and endangerment, and - whatever else. DUIs, probably. Can I get them with DUIs?”

Cas shook his head imperceptibly and looked around for the answer somewhere in the air. “I don’t know, Mr. Singer.”

“Bobby,” Bobby reiterated distractedly. “I just don’t get it. Why? Why would he do this?” They walked in silence for a couple moments before Bobby said, very quietly, “Maybe it’s me.” Cas wasn’t sure if he was supposed to respond, but he continued. “Their dad wasn’t the greatest father who ever lived, but if he were here, you can sure as shit bet this wouldn’t’ve happened. I’ve been too lenient. I gave ‘em too much slack. Or maybe not enough. I dunno. I just - I don’t get it.” He wiped at his eye with the heel of his hand. “Sorry, I just - I dunno. It ain’t easy, seein’ your kids all torn up like this. Are you - are you sure you wanna come in?”

Cas nodded. Bobby rolled his shoulders back, pushed up his sleeves, and opened the door.

It was not the kind of sight a person can prepare for. Cas had thought it would be sort of like in the movies, when the patient’s body is covered up to the chest with a stark, soft blanket and they have artistically placed cuts on their eyebrows but still look beautiful in close-ups. Dean didn’t look beautiful. He was like a tray of paints washed out in the sink, blotches of muddy color all running together. He was bandaged everywhere, Cas noted, except his chest. He’d hate that, when he woke up.

“He looks awful.” Cas crossed his arms and then uncrossed them.

Bobby snorted. “Yeah, he ain’t winnin’ any beauty contests today. C’mere, grab a chair.”

The two of them dragged the uncomfortable chairs provided closer together. Bobby grabbed a crocheted blanket off the end of Dean’s bed and draped it over his legs, offering the coffee to Cas. The young man raised an eyebrow in confusion. “You got that for you.”

“Yeah, but I heard you’re pretty scrambled up there,” he pointed to Cas’ temple. “So you’d best be stayin’ awake, right? I sucked down a couple gas station coffees, so it’s all good on my end. You drink that.”

Cas sipped at it. It tasted like hot, black river water. He wasn’t sure there was any coffee in it at all. There was certainly no sugar. He smiled, feeling his cheeks pull at the stitches on the side of his face. “Thank you.” Bobby waved his thanks away.

“So.” He fidgeted with the cream afghan, sticking his fingers through the crocheted holes as he chose his words. “How you holdin’ up?”

“Me?” Cas laughed incredulously. “I am completely fine. One hundred percent, completely fine.” 

Bobby nodded slowly and reached down to get a waterbottle out of his bag. “I know that Sam pushed you outta the way,” he said casually.

Cas almost choked on his terrible coffee. “Bobby - Mr. Singer - I am so sorry. I didn’t want him to - I didn’t ask - ”

“Hold up, kiddo,” Bobby raised a hand. “I’m not blamin’ you, I’m just sayin’ I know. And yeah, it sucks that Sam’s gettin’ cut up on some table, but you can’t blame yourself. I don’t blame you.” He took a deep breath. “The surgeon actually told me that they think it was better it was from the side - if the car’d hit you head-on, you’d be dead.”

A traitorous thought popped up in Cas’ brain,  _maybe that would be better._

“But as it is,” Bobby continued. “It didn’t. And everyone’s alive, and we gotta be thankful for that right now. The main thing is, you can’t beat yourself up about it. This ain’t nobody’s fault except whoever bought Dean enough booze to get him to a .23 blood alcohol level.” He cracked his knuckles semi-subconsciously. “And when I find out who that was, it ain’t gonna be pretty either.”

Cas couldn’t help but imagine Bobby splitting Crowley’s face open, chin set firm as blood spattered. It was a gory picture. It didn’t seem unlikely.

There was a crinkling from the other side of the room. Cas and Bobby both looked up to see Dean, eyes squeezed shut, unfolding his fingers. They stood up. Bobby almost tripped on the blanket as he rushed to Dean’s side. Cas moved closer but hovered, a few feet away.

Dean mumbled something that mostly sounded like a groan. “Hey - hey, can we get some help in here?” Bobby called over his shoulder. Cas took it as a sign and walked carefully to the door, looking up in time to see his favorite nurse walk in, bun frazzled.

“Clarence!” She smiled. “Glad ya made it. Wanna fill me in on Deano here?”

“He’s waking up,” Bobby cut in.

Meg glanced over at the bed. “Yeah, kinda. He’ll be a bit, just don’t let him strain himself, okay? Everything looks like it’s going well though, so don’t worry about it - I can call in Nurse Moseley, if you need someone here. I have to go attend to a motorcyclist. But he looks great; vitals are fine, this is very normal. He’ll wake up in little chunks, just don’t let him sing any Queen for a bit.”

Bobby snorted. “Sad how that might be useful advice. Nah, you don’t gotta call in anyone else. We’ll be okay, I just wanted to make sure - we were okay.”

She winked at him and turned back to Cas. “And you’re feeling okay? How’s your head? I know you don’t actually have a whole room for the night - but I’m gonna be popping in to check on you, since your dad decided not to take you home.”  Meg didn’t hide the downward sneer particularly well. “Let me know if you need anything, hon. Any of you,” she addressed the room at large, nodding even at Dean. “You never know how aware they are until they start talking.” And with that, she was gone, like a puff of smoke.

Castiel took out his phone and scrolled through the contacts to Benny’s name.

 **2:43**  S _am is still in surgery, but Dean is waking up. His vitals are good and it looks like he is going to be okay. Just wanted to keep you updated._

2:44 Thank you.

Dean woke up in bits and pieces. It would have been awful on film. Before he’d even opened his eyes completely he was making a full sentence. “Goddamn, I feel like shit.” Then his eyes flew open, as wide as they could go while bruised and swollen. “What happened? Where’s Sam?” Bobby shifted uncomfortably in his seat and Dean struggled to sit up.

Cas was there in an instant, a hand stretched in front of him to serve as a barrier. “Dean, no. You must rest.” He looked out and willed Meg to come back and deal with the situation. Were they supposed to tell Dean about Sam? Did he know? Would it be too stressful on his traumatized body and brain?

Bobby beat him to it. “He’s in surgery. The car accident was - it wasn’t good, Dean.”

“Sammy…” Dean breathed. He leaned forward again, not even aware enough to glare when Cas pushed him back down by the clavicle - one of the only places on his body that wasn’t wrapped up or in a cast. “I gotta go see him.”

“You can’t,” Bobby said. Cas couldn’t decide if he was failing to be sweet, or if his curtness was intentional. “None of us can. We just gotta wait.”

“Wait,” Dean repeated. “But - Sam - ” He shook his head and winced at the sensation.

Bobby stepped closer to the bed and shushed him gently. “Go back to sleep, Dean.”

He grimaced, a face which might have looked menacing if his swollen eye hadn’t altered the expression and several obnoxious machines punctuated Bobby’s statement with a tiny symphony of beeps. Cas might have laughed, if the situation had been different. If they weren’t talking about Sam in third person, because he wasn’t there. If he had been anywhere but in an operating room. If he had said anything to Cas when they sprawled together in the road in response to Cas’ babbling words.

Little bits and pieces of the scene kept coming back to him. A flash of headlights, the whirling of an ambulance, the acrid mixture of burnt rubber and vomit in the air. He had talked to Sam until the EMTs got there, but he couldn’t repeat anything he said for the life of him. He couldn’t remember.

“Dean, you can’t.” Bobby’s voice cut through Cas’ reverie, sharp and metallic as he repeated himself.

“And even if you could, why would he want to see you?” Cas added, unable to stop the bitter response. Bobby turned in shock, ready to retort but Dean shook his head.

“He’s right, Bobby. Can we uh - could you give us a second?”

Bobby pressed his lips together and nodded, scooping his bag off the ground and pulling out a half-empty waterbottle. He left the room without a word, heading toward the fountain.

Dean and Cas looked at one another. Dean’s eyes flickered slowly across Cas’ face, and he was suddenly reminded that he didn’t look wonderful either. He rubbed at his shoulder self-consciously until Dean spoke.

“What happened?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “Do you not remember, or are you looking for someone to confirm it was as awful as it was?”

Dean looked down and twitched his legs under the covers. “I suppose that answers my question.”

“You got wasted,” Cas ground his teeth together. “With Crowley and Abaddon and Alastair, of all people, and drove drunk, and your brother, was so worried he drove out there to try and help you. After you did nothing but hurt him. And then you hit him with a fucking car.”

Dean closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Cas laughed in disbelief. “You can’t get absolution from me. Or Bobby. Or the doctors or the nurses or anyone but Sam, and he’s been in surgery for hours.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Dean opened his eyes, a thin layer of fury on the surface. “I didn’t mean to do this. I fucked up. I’m sorry; I’m so fucking sorry. I’ll be apologizing until I die. I should have died, rather than - Sam.” He shrunk into himself. All of a sudden, he looked very small. “How did I not see him in the way?”

“You were drunk.” Cas said flatly. “And it was dark. And he wasn’t in the way. I was.” He lifted his chin. A lot of the fogginess had subsided and he was focused on this. “Tonight, you got so hammered you almost killed your own brother, and he was so selfless he almost was killed to save someone else.” He was speaking so quickly, like a train approaching a hairpin curve and not being able to stop. “And you know what? It shouldn’t have happened. None of it should have happened. Sam hasn’t been anything but perfect, and this is wrong. I’d rather be dead than be sitting here after this mess, waiting to see what state he’s in, not knowing - ”

“Me too,” Dean agreed quietly. “Me too.”

Cas took a breath. He willed himself to calm down. “Why, Dean?” He wrung his hands and looked anywhere but at his face, hoping for an answer that made sense, that could absolve them both. “Why the drinking and reckless behavior? The car accident – Sam won’t even be angry. He’ll just be worried about the circumstances leading up to – to all this. I – please. Tell me what’s been going on. Why?”

Dean chewed on his lip. It oozed blood, but he seemed not to notice. “I don’t know.” He opened his mouth, hoping an explanation would be waiting on the tip of his tongue, but there was nothing. “I don’t know.”

Neither boy spoke for a long moment. When Bobby came back, his waterbottle filled, he sat down across from Cas and stared at his reflection in the glare of the dark window. If he noticed the tear streaking the bandages on either of their faces, he didn’t say anything. It was an act of kindness they returned by ignoring his red nose and puffy eyelids. They settled into their seats and waited for Sam.

 


	14. blink back

The knock on the door was very quiet. No one woke up. Dean let out a tiny wheeze as he exhaled, air whistling past his fractured ribs. Bobby snorted in his sleep, shifting about in his chair. He’d only just fallen asleep, watching Dean for hours and picking at the hard skin around his fingernails. The sun, peeking past heavy curtains, didn’t seem to bother any of them.

“Ahem.”

Cas cracked open an eyelid and focused on the figure who had just poked her head into the room. It was not the best way to start his day. Hester waved a little bit and took a step inside, starting to speak at a normal volume before Cas pressed his finger to his lips and stood up, motioning her to the hallway. He looked back as he closed the door quietly - neither Bobby nor Dean stirred.

“Hi, Hester - what time is it?” Cas rubbed at his eyes blearily.

She huffed out a short breath and pulled at her tweed sleeve to check her watch. “Just after nine. I’m sorry nobody came and got you last night.” She waited for him to acknowledge the statement and pressed on when he shrugged. “Dad was busy and he didn’t tell anyone or I would have gotten you then. But, I’m here now. Got your coat?”

“No - I can’t leave, Sam hasn’t woken up yet.” He ignored the split-second face his sister made.

“Is he okay?”

Cas raised an eyebrow and tried his hardest to keep from snapping, “Obviously not; he got out of surgery hours ago and is still out. He was hit by a _car_ , Hester.”

She put her hands up in the air in surrender. “I’m sorry! That was a silly question, sorry. Do you know when he’ll be out? Or if he’s stable, or whatever?” She watched as he pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed at it.

“I don’t know. Yeah, we think so. Bobby got to go in when he was out of surgery, but that was a while ago - I dunno. They wouldn’t let me in.”

Hester tutted, clicking her tongue against her teeth and patting his shoulder sympathetically. “Oh, Castiel.”  She bit her bottom lip and looked around the hallway, then at her watch. “I mean, it’s still pretty early. We can maybe come back later in the afternoon? I don’t have anything going on; I can give you a ride?”

He blinked. “Really?”

She shrugged, taking a step forward to clear the path for a nurse passing behind them. “Yeah, why not? You two are really good friends - I’d wanna see my best friend too, if she were in the hospital.”

“Um-” Cas hesitated, unsure of whether it was even worth it. “We’re not just friends, Hester. I’ve liked Sam for a really long time and we recently, uh, started dating.” He prepared himself to cringe.

His sister beamed. “Oh, Cas, that’s great! I knew you’d find somebody.” She nudged him with her elbow and winked. “You were always a bit of a late bloomer.”

He gritted his teeth and nodded once. “Thanks.” She just looked so happy. There wasn’t any point explaining it further - especially not with Sam unconscious on a different floor. “But that’s why I’d really love it if I could stay, you know?”

Hester jerked her head to the side to get her bangs out of her eyes and pressed her lips together. “I just don’t know, Cas, I don’t want to get in trouble with Dad… especially since he’s not incredibly happy you were out late and got into this mess to start with. You could have gotten really hurt!”

Cas couldn’t help his snort of laughter. “You know I got my brain bruised, right? There was glass in my hands - I did get hurt, Hester. I have stitches _on my face_. God, didn’t Dad tell you anything?”

She blinked, tilting her head to the side like Cas did so often and reexamining her little brother. “He’s been busy.”

“Hester, look, I know that Dad sent you up here and he’s probably angry because I screwed up - again - but this is really, really important to me.” He took a deep breath. “Sam’s really important to me.”

His sister opened his mouth to reply, but shut it abruptly as a brunette nurse in blue scrubs sidled up next to them. She patted Cas lightly on the arm as she made unwavering eye contact with his sister. “Well good morning Clarence! Feeling a bit better in this region?” Meg waved her hands over his head and he grinned in answer. “Good, good. This your ride?”

Hester raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.” She jumped as her phone buzzed in her pocket and pulled it out to text a response.

Meg smiled saccharine-sweetly. “Wonderful. Did you know he has a pretty severe concussion?”

“Cas?” Hester questioned.

He ignored her. “Meg - er, Sam? Is he awake yet?”

She shook her head, frowning. “No, sorry, kiddo. When can you come back? He might be up early this afternoon - that’d be about normal, so it might be after that.”

Cas sighed. “Well, we’re coming back this afternoon, then.”

“Ohh,” Hester cringed. “About that. I just got a text from my friend - I sort of have plans this afternoon.”

 _“Seriously?”_ Cas’ mouth fell open in disbelief. “You _just_ said - !”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m sorry! But you heard the nurse, he might not even be awake by then, so - ”

Meg interrupted. “Actually, I just remembered there’s a rule stating that, uh, people injured in the same accident are exceptions to the family-only rule after a certain amount of time, after surgery - you can go see him now, before you have to head out. Is that okay, Ms…?”

“Shurley,” Hester finished for her. She looked at her watch again, phone in her hand. “I suppose, but you gotta make it quick, okay Cas? Minimize the lovestruck gazing, if you can.” She smiled tightly and waved as Meg steered him down the hallway.

They got about ten steps away before Cas turned to her and said, “There’s no loophole like that, is there?”

She shrugged. “Do either of us give a shit?”

Cas smiled genuinely for the first time in almost twelve hours. “Right. No, we don’t. Thank you.”

Meg scoffed. Castiel pretended he couldn’t see the apples of her cheeks turning a soft red. “It’s not a big deal. You gotta do stuff like this when you see ridiculous kids in love.” She winked as they stopped outside a heavy door. “Okay, he’s - pretty beat up. He’s okay, though. I promise.” Cas tried to look through the slit of glass in the door, but Sam wasn’t visible from that angle. “You want the laundry list of what he’s got going on, or do you not wanna know?”

Cas pressed his lips together and chewed on a piece of dry skin. “I want to know.”

She nodded, smiling at something he didn’t entirely understand. “Well, he’s got a broken leg - his femur. That alone is pretty impressive, honestly, but it comes with a pelvic fracture and a sprained wrist. He’s got a diaphragmatic rupture, which is complicated by a traumatic diaphragmatic hernia - his stomach got moved up into the chest cavity when his diaphragm ripped, but the surgeons have put everything back where it’s supposed to be and sewed him up good. He’s pretty cut up, too - face, neck - not to mention his liver, but - obviously you can’t see that.” Meg looked at Cas’ expression, trying to gauge his thoughts. “You gonna be okay?”

He shook his head quickly, trying to convince himself it would be fine. She seemed to understand that, because when she opened the door she squeezed his hand. “Just remember, he’s gonna be alright, even if he looks pretty chewed up now.”

Cas smiled in response and pushed the door open. He let it close behind him before stepping slowly into the small room. There was an empty bed on the other side of the room, the thin green curtain hanging limply across the middle. Sam was closest to the door, propped up by starched white pillows. Bobby had brought in a thick brown blanket from home, and it covered Sam’s lower torso, excepting his left leg. Cas pulled a chair to the side of the bed and settled against the uncomfortable fabric.

Sam looked almost peaceful. His arm was bandaged, just below the monitor taped to his fingers. The steady beeps of his heartbeat were the only sound in the room. They seemed magnified in the sterile, stark space. His blankets were pulled up to his chest, and Cas had no desire to see what was under them. He wondered if that made him shallow, or weak. But everything else was bad enough. Sam’s bottom lip was sewn together with two ugly black stitches, and both his eyes were bruised and black. He had minor cuts across his nose and his eyebrow, and thick gauze over one of his cheeks. His leg was in a cast of white fiberglass and plaster. Cas noticed belatedly that his hands were shaking.

There was a rattle in Sam’s chest as he breathed. Cas closed his eyes. It was more painful to see him this way than it had been to be stitched up; he imagined it would be less painful to be in that bed himself. He leaned forward and took Sam’s hand in his own. It rested gently atop his fingers, for fear of hurting him.

“Sam,” he whispered. He shifted in his seat, leaning forward so that his elbows sat on the edge of the plastic railing. “I’m so sorry. This should never have happened - I - I don’t know.”

Cas reached across the bed and stroked Sam’s fringe out of his eyes as gently as possible. “The nurse says you’re going to be okay - and that’s fantastic, I’m so happy, and I’m sure you wouldn’t change anything,” he rolled his eyes. “But I wish we could trade places. I’m so angry with Dean, and I don’t want to be, but I can’t help it.” Cas bit his lip. “This isn’t fair.”

Sam’s eyelashes fluttered and Cas stopped talking. “Sam?” But he was still.

“God, this is just - look at you.” Castiel laughed a little bit. “I still think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Even all broken up, you’re just - I don’t think anyone could ever be more - more, than you are.” He looked up at the ceiling and listened to Sam’s electronic heartbeat. “When you wake up, I’m going to be here. Forever. I don’t care what it takes.” He rubbed his thumb against Sam’s palm. “I’m a little worried I might be in love with you. Which is so cheesy to tell you, unconscious in a hospital bed, but there it is.”

He looked down at their hands and shook his head, a little embarrassed. A moment later his head snapped up when there was a hoarse quip from above.

“You’ve always been - pretty cheesy, Cas.”

“Sam?” Cas started to stand up, then hovered before sitting back down. Sam’s mouth twitched at the corners and he kept his eyes shut. “You’re awake! You aren’t supposed to be awake for hours, I don’t understand. You - your body needs to heal. Go back to sleep.”

Sam laughed. It sounded awful, painful and wheezing, but Cas had never heard anything lovelier. “Pretty sure this is - dream, so it’s okay.”

Cas reached up and stroked his shoulder, careful to avoid the gashes that stretched up his neck. “No, it’s not, Sam. You’re here, you’re awake, you’re okay. I’m here.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re here.” Sam’s smile crept up his mouth, slowly but surely. “Wait. Where’s Dean? Does Bobby know? What’s - ?”

“Um, Bobby was in earlier - you weren’t awake yet.” Cas could hear a crack in his voice and quickly cleared his throat. “Dean’s okay, he’s sleeping but he’s up and he’s okay.” He looked away from Sam. “Do you remember everything that happened?”

Sam closed his eyes a little tighter. “I think so.” He didn’t ask for clarification.

“You pushed me out of the way of the car - Sam, you saved my life.” It sounded so fake and scripted but it was all Cas could think to say.

“Good.” Sam hummed in approval.

Cas couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Good? You saved my life and ended up in a hospital bed with a broken leg and ripped-up organs and you just say ‘good’?”

Sam’s eyes opened a crack. Cas could see that he had a broken blood vessel in one, turning the white completely red. “A what?” He tried to look down at his leg and winced at the strain on his neck.

Cas held his hand a little tighter. “Broken femur. From the impact.”

“Organs?” Sam echoed faintly.

“Totally fine.” Cas fibbed. “You were in surgery for hours, for the leg and for the other stuff - I don’t exactly know what they’re going to tell you about it all, but they assured me you’re going to be okay. You’re a hero, Sam.”

Sam chuckled, biting back a groan as his body protested the movement. “Shut up. Are you okay?” His eyes opened completely for the first time as he tried to focus on different pieces of Cas’ face, analyzing his injuries. “I pushed you, are you okay?”

It took all Castiel’s self-control not to laugh at his boyfriend, purely out of shock. “You pushed me out of the way. I’m totally fine, Sam, just baby cuts and bruises.” He decided not to mention anything else - it wasn’t like Sam could do anything but worry about it.

“I’m sorry, you weren’t supposed to get hurt,” Sam went back to closing his eyes. He already looked so exhausted.

“Sam, stop that. You’re easily in the worst condition out of anyone involved; you have to worry about yourself first for once.” Cas squeezed his fingers.

“Mmm,” Sam made some sound of agreement, but Cas wasn’t entirely sure how much he understood. “Dean?”

Cas repeated himself, “Dean’s okay. He’ll be up and at ‘em in like three days.”

“How okay?” Sam asked with as much petulance as he could muster while still under the effects of anesthesia.

Before Cas could answer, the door to the room opened with a thud as it slammed against the wall. Sam moved his head in that direction and Cas stood up, still grasping his hand, ready to give someone some choice words.

“Sammy,” Dean rasped. He pushed himself forward in his wheelchair, straining with sore muscles to stay upright. “Heard you were finally up among the living - good to have you back.”

“Dean?” Sam opened his eyes again, mouth dropping open in confusion. “I thought - ?”

Dean shrugged as best he could. “Suggested healing times are for suckers. You’re up early too, you know? We’re just advanced, us brothers.” Cas watched the tension go out of his expression as Sam laughed, as weak as it was. “That nurse told Bobby that she’d poked her head in a second ago and you were up, so I thought I’d come say hi. And - and I wanted to say sorry.”

“Why are you - in a chair?” Sam shook his head and struggled to sit up. Dean and Cas both reached out their hands in some subconscious barrier. Cas guided him back down to the pillows.

“Oh, I just messed up my ribs a little bit.” Dean shrugged. “Ain’t nothing time can’t fix.”

“That seems pretty zen,” Cas mentioned.

Dean looked down at his lap. “Yeah, I’m trying out something new. Actually, Cas - my phone was in the Impala, I was kind of wondering if you had Benny’s number? I need to talk to him, too.” Cas smiled and took out his phone, tossing it into Dean’s hands. “Thanks.”

“Hey,” Cas ventured. “I’m sorry, for what I said earlier. That was out of line.”

“Nah,” Dean shook his head. “Not really. But I appreciate it, the apology.”

They smiled at their feet, not meeting one another’s gaze until there was a flurry of activity from the hallway. A woman with clear dark skin and a no-nonsense expression stepped into Sam’s room and grasped the back handles of Dean’s wheelchair. “You are not supposed to be out of bed, young man.”

“Nurse Moseley!” Dean tried to turn his grimace into a smile with very little success. “I just wanted to check on my little brother.”

Her eyes softened. “You can call me Missouri, kiddo. You gotta watch out for yourself, too. You could pull out your stitches, wheeling yourself around like that. Say goodbye and we gotta head back.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Bye, Sam. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

Sam made a tiny noise of acknowledgement from the bed. His head lay tilted against his pillows and he sank into the firm bedding. Missouri tutted at the sight and wheeled Dean out of the room backwards, still holding Cas’ phone. Cas let them go, especially since she winked at him and said nothing about his presence there. Thank god for kind people in the medical profession.

He returned to his seat by Sam’s side and resumed holding his hand. Sam hummed happily, nuzzling further into his blankets. “I’m so glad you’re here, Sam,” Cas whispered, leaning toward his ear.

“‘M glad we’re here too, Cas,” Sam opened one eye and puckered his lips. Cas took the hint and moved forward, kissing him gently. Sam sighed and his lashes fluttered shut. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” Cas slowly became aware of a tear tracking down his cheek. He didn’t wipe it away, though: he wasn’t sad.

They sat there for a while longer. Sam’s breathing steadied almost immediately as he slipped back into sleep and Cas watched his eyes move under his bruised eyelids until Hester knocked on the frame of the door and motioned that it was time to leave.

Cas slowly extracted Sam’s hand from his fingers and pressed it softly into the sheets at his side. He leaned over the railing again and pressed a kiss to Sam’s hairline, above the bruises and cuts. He straightened up and walked to the door, looking over his shoulder to see him for as long as possible.

He wasn’t worried, not anymore. Sam would be okay. And Cas didn’t know everything, but he knew he would be there every step of the way. That’s what you do for the people you love. Castiel walked alongside his sister in silence until they got to her car. He slipped into the passenger side, put a finger to his lip where Sam had kissed him, and smiled.


	15. to let me know

“I thought shotgun shut their cakehole?”

“Backseat definitely shuts their cakehole,” Dean glared over his shoulder at his brother.

Benny sighed good-naturedly. “Here’s the thing, though - I don’t really give a shit what shotgun says, we ain’t listenin’ to Metallica. We’re finishin’ this Mumford and Sons mix and that’s final.”

Dean groaned and Benny reached across the console to pat his shoulder. “Who makes a mixed CD of only one band? That’s inane.”

From the backseat, Cas raised an eyebrow. “Well, listen to that SAT vocabulary.”

Dean flushed as Sam beamed in pride. “You can shut up too.”

The Jeep slowed to a stop as Benny slid it into the turn lane. Banjo played quietly from the speakers as he turned to his boyfriend. “Hey now, cher, we’re just proud of you.” He picked up Dean’s hand and kissed his knuckles, looking up with a little grin until the arrow turned green. Dean sighed indignantly and held onto Benny’s hand, their fingers resting together on the center console. Benny had to pick his up shortly thereafter to shift the car into a different gear.

“I hate this dumb Jeep,” Dean pouted. “It makes it hard for us to hold hands.”

Benny snorted. “Learn how to drive stick and you’ll feel different.”

Dean groaned, petulantly folding his arms so that his hands hid in his armpits. “The Impala is fine.”

“Actually, you wrecked it, so.” Benny raised an eyebrow and Sam chuckled from the backseat. Dean sighed and passed a hand over his face. They’d almost fixed her up completely, and Dean had been the first to make the joke a couple weeks ago. He didn’t realize he was opening a floodgate to the last several weeks’ worth of comments they’d kept to themselves out of respect. Sam thought he was taking them all quite well.

“Ha, ha,” Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam shook his head, smiling to himself. Cas watched him fondly. The cuts on his face had mostly healed, although a piece of glass had left a tiny white scar through his eyebrow. The cast on his wrist would be taken off this time next week, which was probably for the best, since Dean had drawn one dick and three separate boobs on it. Sam opened his eyes and caught his boyfriend staring. He grinned and reached out his good hand. They locked fingers and rested their hands on Sam’s leg, gently.

“What movie are we seeing, again?” Sam asked in the conversation’s lull.

Dean shrugged as Cas supplied the title. “Is it another foreign lesbian film? Because I don’t know if I can handle that.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “First of all, it’s a critically-acclaimed film. Secondly, that was one time; you’re being ridiculous. Thirdly - ”

“Dean, don’t worry. There’s at least one explosion in the trailer,” Sam teased.

“Just one?” Dean screeched. Benny said nothing but reached down to turn up the music. Dean muttered something and turned it back down.

As the two of them pretended to bicker in the front seat, Cas leaned over. “You do want to see this movie, right?”

Sam scoffed. “Cas, I’ve been stuck in my house for weeks except for school. At this point, I’d see the fourteenth Terminator movie filmed in someone’s backyard,” he readjusted his leg. “You know, where the only props are yards of aluminum foil and a can-do attitude?”

“You hush, or Dean’ll tell us he’s seen that and it’s good,” Benny called over his shoulder.

Dean huffed. “I can’t help that I’m a connoisseur of film.”

From the backseat, Sam hummed to himself. “Is that what they’re calling it now?”

“I will throw shit at you; I’m not bluffing.”

“You’ll throw _shit_ at me?” Sam smirked and threw up his good arm as a reflex as Dean feigned a toss.

The banjo from the stereo died away as Benny pulled into the parking lot. Dean mimed applause. “That was damn good timing, babe.”

“I told ya I knew what I was doing with my Mumford mix,” Benny winked. He took the keys out of the ignition with a metal clink. The boys in the front both unbuckled their seatbelts and opened the doors, leaving Sam and Cas in the back.

Sam could see Cas biting the inside of his cheek so as not to offer any help. After a couple weeks of being cooped up inside, Sam had gotten irritated with the constant coddling. Cas understood, and he was keeping his distance, but they both knew it was incredibly difficult for him.

“Hey, Cas - would you mind grabbing my crutches? Just bring them around the other side.” He looked at his boyfriend for a moment, wondering when he had stopped blushing every time they made eye contact.

Out of all the things that had changed, that one was a welcome departure.

“Yeah, okay.” Cas fidgeted in his seat for a moment, then opened his door. Sam opened his side and struggled to swivel his hips around. He could tell that Castiel was leisurely walking around the back of the Jeep, trying to make it less obvious that Sam was rather inhibited. He had barely made it around the second tire when Sam pushed himself out of the seat and leaned against the door.

“What took you so long?” Sam quirked an eyebrow as he reached out for his crutches.

Cas rolled his eyes. “You’re getting dirt on your butt.”

“Quit looking at my butt.” Sam laughed as he maneuvered onto the crutches. Cas closed the door tightly behind him and lingered after his boyfriend, staring as obviously as possible. “What did I say?”

“I will not.” Cas sniffed, but caught up to Sam easily. “Crutch-carrier gets to look at butts.”

Sam scoffed. “Does not.”

Cas shrugged. “I mean, I could just stop carrying your crutches…” The threat didn’t sound remotely real, and before Sam could retort anything clever, he amended his statement. “I won’t, though.”

“Pft, I could get around without you.” Sam stuck his nose in the air for a second before looking back at Cas, whose eyes hadn’t left him the entire time.

“True. But you don’t want to.”

Dean and Benny had stopped just inside the front doors, out of the bitter wind. Dean pulled the door open for the two of them, sighing loudly as Sam passed through on his crutches. The corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile.

“Have you bought your tickets yet?” Cas asked.

Benny turned to Dean. “I’m payin’ today.”

“Well, well,” Dean batted his eyelashes. “Ain’t you forward, mister.”

Everyone else groaned, or made some similar sound. Dean grinned, pleased with himself.

Benny and Cas went to go get the tickets, leaving the Winchesters against the wall opposite the ticket booth.

“I’m really not excited to see this movie,” Dean said, crossing his arms.

“I know,” Sam nodded. “But I’m glad you’re seeing it with us anyway.”

Dean laughed a little bit. “You know, maybe after this we should go get pizza.”

Sam ducked down for a second, chuckling. “Yeah, maybe we should.”

They were quiet for a moment, before Dean admitted, “I can’t believe this shit turned out for you.”

“Me either,” Sam shrugged. “Meant to be, I guess.”

“You corny fuck,” Dean rolled his eyes before breaking into giggles. “‘Meant to be,’ my ass. You wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without my expert advice.”

“Your expert advice!” Sam cried.

Dean puffed out his chest, a glint in his eyes. “My expert advice. I am, after all, the love machine.”

“Shut up,” Sam said, trying not to laugh. He was shortly saved by their respective boyfriends, who waved them through the elastic rope with a ticket in each hand. As they passed the ticket taker, Cas fell back into step beside Sam and Dean and Benny went on ahead to the snack counter.

“What were you guys talking about?” Cas asked.

Sam hummed. “Dean being the love machine.”

Cas blinked. “I feel that’s something best kept between him and Benny.”

“Agreed.” Sam chuckled.

They bypassed the line for popcorn and navigated to theater fourteen. The movie had been out for a while, and the room was empty, just rows upon rows of worn red seats. Cas pointed up towards the middle and then hesitated, his eyes lingering on Sam’s crutches.

“There’s nobody in here; let’s sit in the middle.” Sam answered the unasked question. He started up the shallow steps against the wall slowly. Cas followed along behind him, chatting absently about the movie trivia up on the screen before trailers.

“Which other Disney movie was the voice of Elsa, the queen in Frozen, apart of?” He answered his own question, “Enchanted. The grammar in that question was embarrassing.”

Sam let him talk until they were both seated, kings on threadbare thrones. Then he laid his crutches against the seats in front of him and turned to his boyfriend. “You know, Dean won’t want to sit by us.”

Cas tilted his head to the side. “Okay.”

“And if he’s the love machine… he won’t be paying very much attention to us…”

“Sam.” Cas sat straight up in his chair and cleared his throat. “I was worried about this.”

Sam furrowed his brow. “Worried?”

“I know you like to kiss in the dark. But I am very interested in this movie and will _not_ have you distract me from it with your mouth.” Cas pursed his lips until Sam broke into a laugh.

“Okay, okay, I got it.” Sam reached up to raise the armrest between them. “But that doesn’t include cuddling, right?”

Cas paused to think for a moment. “Definitely does not include cuddling.” He looked up at the ceiling. “As in, let’s definitely cuddle.”

“Oh, thank god.”

As Sam slid the cupholder out of their way, Dean and Benny came into the theater, holding sodas and buckets of popcorn, arguing about the merits of Star Wars versus Star Trek.

“I’m just sayin’, Star Trek as a franchise - ”

“Dude, a true fan doesn’t pick favorites.”

Benny turned toward the couple sitting and started up the stairs, shaking his head fondly at whatever Dean was mumbling behind him. He made a move to join Sam and Cas, but Dean pulled at his collar.

“Hey, cher,” he pronounced the word with a hard ‘r.’ “We’re sitting in the back.”

“The back?” Benny looked up at the screen and then at their friends.

“The back.”

“The - oh.” He grinned. “The back.” Sam wiggled his fingers at the two of them as Cas shook his head, less fondly.

“Inappropriate.”

“Yep.” The lights began to dim. “Now cuddle with me?”

Cas pretended to huff in exasperation before burrowing into Sam’s side. They spent the first two trailers adjusting themselves so that Sam’s leg wasn’t in contact with anything Cas was likely to twitch, and so that Cas’ neck wouldn’t ache by the end of the film.

The warnings about cell phones and piracy flicked by as Sam leaned down to kiss Cas’ temple. It just felt right. Cas sighed in contentment and took Sam’s hand in his own. He placed it on his chest. Sam could feel his heartbeat, and it felt even better. The slow, steady thrum of blood and life under his skin was nothing short of beautiful.

Months, even weeks ago, Sam never would have imagined he’d be here, with a broken leg in an empty movie theatre with his best friend nestled against his ribs. He never would have thought they’d have this much in common. But as he watched names appear and fade on the screen, Sam knew that this was meant to be.

He gave Cas’ hand a little squeeze and his boyfriend squeezed back. They didn't say anything. They didn’t have to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all who have stuck with me this long and kept me accountable - I couldn't have done it without you.


End file.
